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Book P3 5 - 




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THE 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON, 



BY 



JAMES K. PAULDING. 



ABERDEEN: 

PUBLISHED BY GEORGE CLARK AND SON. 

DUBLIN :-J. M'GLASHAN, 21, D'OLIER-STREET. 

HDocoxLyni. 



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PREFACE. 



Shobtlv after the conclusion of the late war, the author of the following work 
removed to the city of Washington, where he resided several years. His situa* 
tion brought him into familiar intercourse with many respectable, and some dis- 
tinguished persons, who had been associated with Washington ; and the idea oc- 
curred to him of attempting to compile a Life of the Father of his Country, 
which might possibly address itself to the popular feeling more directly than any 
one hitherto attempted. With this object in view, he took every occasion to 
gather information concerning his private life and domestic habits from luch 
sources as could be relied on as authentic. 

Though the work has been long delayed, the design has never been re- 
linquished. But subsequent reflection has induced him to alter his original in- 
tention, by attempting to adapt it to the use of schools, and generally to that 
class of readers who have neither the means of purchasing, nor the leisure to 
read, a larger and more expensive book. It appeared to him, that the life of 
Washington furnished an invaluable moral example to the youth of his country 
and that its introduction to their notice could not but be useful to the rising 
generation of his countrymen, by holding up to their view, the character and 
actions of a man whose public and private virtues equally furnish the noblest as 
well as the safest objects for their guide and imitation. 

In compiling this work, the writer has availed himself of all the sources of in- 
formation within his reach ; and though possessed of materials for a much larger 
one, has compressed them in a manner which, it is hoped, will bring it within 
the reach of those to whom it is peculiarly addressed. Much of the information 
concerning the private life and habits of Washington, was derived from the in- 
formation of his contemporaries then living, but most of them now no more, 
and from the means afforded by the present most estimable lady who is now in 
possession of Mount Vernon. 

In detailing the events of the Revolution, the writer has principally consulted 



Vr. PREFACE. 

the public and private letters of Washington, which have long been before the 
world, as the most unquestionable authorities ; though it must be obvious, that 
a work intended for the purposes he has avowed, must necessarily be confined to 
those more consequential events, in which Washington was himself personally 
engaged, except in so far as is necessary to connect the narrative. He has 
avoided citing his authority on every occasion, because such a course would, he 
thought, interfere with the uses for which the work was intended, by presenting 
continual interruptions; but his readers may be assured, that he has inserted 
nothing which he does not believe to be true, and for which, if necessary, he 
cannot produce the authority of history, of Washington himself, or of un- 
doubted traditions. 

In a work addressed to the youth, and to the popular feeling' of his country, 
it seemed allowable, if not absolutely necessary to the purposes of the writer, 
to place the actions of Washington before the reader in a manner tlie more 
strongly to affect his reason as well as his imagination, and to accompany them 
with reflections calculated to impress him deeply with the virtues and services 
of the Father of his Country. His desire was to enlist their affections — to call 
forth their love, as well as veneration, for tl;e great and good man whose life 
and'actions he has attempted to delineate ; and in so doing he has appealed 
rather to the feelings of nature than to the judgment of criticUm. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 



CHAPTEK I. 

Introduction. Birth of Washington. Description of his Birth-place. Of the 
House in which he was born. Some Particulars of his early Education, His 
Father. His^Mother. His first, second, and last Teacher. Early Military 
Propensities. Character at School. His Strength and Activity. Anecdote. 
Becomes Surveyor to the Estate of Lord Fairfax. Anecdote of that Noble- 
man. Receives a Midshipman's Warrant. His Military Studies. 

TbERE is no legacy more precious to youth than memorials of 
great and virtuous men ; nor is there any thing which confers 
more lasting renown on a nation, than the fortunate circum- 
stance of having produced a citizen whose rare virtues and il- 
lustrious actions "unite the suffrages of mankind in all ages in 
his favour, and consecrate him as one of the chosen models of 
the human race. His country and his countrymen equally 
partake in the benefits of his services and the glory of his ac- 
tions ; nor is there one of his fellow-citizens throughout all 
posterity, however humble may be his station, that will not in 
some degree be ennobled by an association with his name. 
He becomes the great landmark of his country ; the pillar on 
which is recorded her claim to an equality with the illustrious 
nations of the world ; the example to all succeeding genera- 
tions; and there is no trait which so strongly marks a de- 
generate race as an indifference to his fame and his virtues. 

Such was the man whose life I have undertaken to write ; 
not because it has not already been well-written, or that his 
renown requires the aid of the historian or biographer. While 



8 LIFE OF WASUINaTONt 

these record his virtues and his services, they can do little to 
perpetuate his fame, which is inseparable from his native land. 
Ho Avho, by the general sulVrage of his fellow-citizens, is hail- 
ed as the Fatiikr ok iiis Country, needs no other monu- 
ment. His memory will last as long as the country endures, 
and the name of Wasliingtou be co-existent with that of the 
land he redeemed from bondage. 

Not for his sake, therefore, but for the youth of my country 
have I commenced this undertaking. I wished, if possible, to 
place before our children the character and actions of one, the 
contemplation of whose virtues and services cannot but in- 
spire them with noble sentiments, and a high regard to their 
public and private duties. In no age or country has there 
ever arisen a man who, equally in private as in public life, 
presented so admirable a model to every class and condition 
of mankind. The most humble citizen of the United States 
may copy his private virtues, and the most lofty and magnani- 
mous spirit cannot propose to itself a more noble object of 
ambition than to aspire to an imitation of his public services. 
In contemplating such a character, our children will eipially 
acquire a reverence for virtue, and a sacred devotion to the 
obligations of citizens of a free state. 



George Washington was born in the parish of "Washing- 
ton,* county of "Westmoreland, and state of "S'irginia, the 
twenty-second of February, 1732^ and was the youngest son 
of Augustin "Washington and INIary Ball, his second wife. He 
descended from John "Washington, a native of England, who 
emigrated to this country sometime between the years 1 G50 
and 1C.3G, and settled at Pope's Creek, where he married a 

* The first Washington describes himself la his will as " John Washington, of 
the parish of Washington." It is dated Oct. 21, 1675. 



HFE OF WASHINGTON. 9 

daughter of the gentleman from whom the stream derives its 
name. 

Although it is of little consequence who were the distant 
ancestors of a man who, by common consent, is hailed as the 
Father of his Country, yet any particulars concerning his family 
cannot but be a subject of curiosity. In all my general read- 
ing I have only chanced to meet with the name of Washington 
three or four times in the early history and literature of Eng- 
land. In the diary of Elias Ashmole, founder of the Ashmo- 
lean Museum, are the following entries : — 

"June \2th, 1645. I entered on my command as comptrol- 
ler of the ordnance." 

" June \2ith. I received my commission from Colonel Wash- 
ington." 

Hume, in his account of the siege of Bristol, has the follow- 
ing passage : — " One party led by Lord Grandison was beaten 
off and its commander mortally wounded. Another, con- 
ducted by Colonel Bellasis, met with a like fate. But Wash- 
ington, with a less party, finding a place in the curtain 
weaker than the rest, broke in, and quickly made room for 
the horse to follow." This was in 1643. Five years after- 
wards, that deluded monarch, Charles I., suffered the just 
consequences of his offences against the majesty of the 
people of England, and from that time the cause of roy- 
alty appeared desperate. The more distinguished and ob- 
noxious adherents of the Stuarts exiled themselves in foreign 
lands, and the date of the supposed arrival of the first Wash- 
ington in Virginia, accords well with the supposition that he 
may have been the same person mentioned by Ashmole and 
Hume. In an old collection of poetry, by Sir John Menzies 
and others, there is a fine copy of verses to the memory of Mr. 
Washington, page to the king, who died in Spain. In the year 
A 5 



10 LIFE OF WASHINOTON. 

1640, William Legge, Earl of Dartmouth, married Elizabeth, 
daughter of Sir William 'NVashington. But the name and 
family of Washington are now extinct in the land of our fore- 
fathers. When General Washington was about making his 
will, he caused inquiries to be instituted, being desirous to 
leave some memorial to all his relations. The result was a 
conviction that none of the family existed in that country. — 
But the topic is rather curious than important. The subject of 
this biography could receive little additional dignity through a 
descent from the most illustrious families in Christendom. He 
stands alone in the pure atmosphere of his own glory. He 
derived no title to honours from his ancestry, and left no 
child but his country to inherit his fame. 

The house in which Washington was born stood about half 
a mile from the junction of Popa's Creek with the Potomac, 
and was either burned or pulled down long previous to the 
Revolution. A few scanty relics alone remain to mark the 
spot which will ever be sacred in the eyes of posterity. A 
clump of old decayed fig trees, probably coeval with the man- 
sion, yet exists ; a number of vines, and shrubs, and flowers 
still re-produce themselves every year, as if to mark its site, 
and flourish among the hallowed ruins ; and a stone, placed 
there by Mr. George Washington Custis, bears the simple in- 
scription, "Here, on the 11th of February, (O.S.) 1732, 
George Washington was born." 

The spot is of the deepest interest, not only from its associ- 
ations, but its natural beauties. It commands a view of the 
Maryland shore of the Potomac, one of the most majestic of 
rivers, and of its course for many miles towards Chesapeake 
Bay. An aged gentleman, still living in the neighbourhood, 
remembers the house in which Washington was born. It 
was a low-pitched, single-storied, frame building, with four 
rooms on the first floor, and an enormous chimney at each 
end on the outside. This was the style of the better sort of 



tlFE OP WASHINGltON. 11 

houses in those daj's, aad they are still occasionally seen in 
the old settlements of Virginia. 

Such is the brief sketch of the birth-place of a man who was 
destined to carry to a successful issue those great principles of 
liberty, which, after having resulted in a degree of happiness 
and prosperity hitherto unparalleled in the history of man- 
kind, are now spreading afar into the remote regions of the 
earth, and seem fated to work a universal revolution. Let my 
young reader bear in mind that it was not in a palace, in the 
midst of the splendours of royalty, that a child was bom, 
with whose iirst breath the future destinies of millions of the 
human race were to be inseparably associated, and whose vir- 
tues were to redeem his country from a long-continued vas- 
salage. It was in the house of a private man, like that they 
themselves inhabit, he first saw the light; and it was by the 
aid alone of such advantages as are within the reach of them 
all, that he qualified himself, not only to become the future fa- 
ther of his country, but to exhibit to the world one of the 
purest models of private excellence, that the history of na- 
tions presents to the imitation of mankind. The contempla- 
tion of such an illustrious example will go far to dissolve 
those long-cherished delusions, created and fostered by early 
impressions, and the almost universal tendency of books, which 
have implanted in their minds a conviction that rank, and 
birth, and wealth, and power are indispensable requisites to 
great virtues and glorious actions. 

The aged neighbour and cotemporary of Washiugton, from 
whom I have derived the preceding description of the house 
of his nativity, remembers to have heai-d that at the time of 
his birth he was very large ; and the uniform testimony of 
those who knew him proves, that in his youth, manhood, and 
even his declining years, be was distinguished, not only for his 
vigour, activity, and hardihood, but for an ad\^enturous, reso- 
lute, and ardent spirit. His father, Augustin Washington, died 



12 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

when he was scarcely ten years old, leaving him to the care 
of his mother, who survived a long time, and lived to see her 
favourite son hailed by a grateful people as their deliverer. 

But young as was Washington at the decease of his father, 
it is stated, on the authority of the rector of the parish of 
Mount Vernon, that he lived long enough to implant in his 
heart the seeds of virtuous principles, which, falling on a rich 
soil, grew up in time to a glorious maturity. The virtues of 
truth, justice, and liberality, most especially, were early im- 
pressed on his youthful mind, by examples and illustrations, 
and the principles of religion inculcated with his earliest 
lessons. From all that is remembered of Augustin "Washing- 
ton, he appears to have been a good man, worthy of such a 
eon. 

The mother of Washington, on, whom the care of bring- 
ing him up devolved on the death of his father, is described to 
me, by those who knew her well, as a woman of ordinary 
stature, once a belle and beauty in that part of Virginia cal- 
led the Northern Neck. High-spirited, yet of great simplicity 
of manners, uncommon strength of mind, and decision of 
character, she exacted great deference from her sous, of 
whom George was the favourite. The only weakness in her 
character was an excessive fear of thunder, which originated 
in the melancholy death of a young female friend, who was 
struck dead at her side by lightning, when Mrs. Washington 
was about fifteen years old. 

The same inflexible regard to the performance of those 
ordinary duties of life, on which so much of our own hap- 
piness and that of others depends ; the same strict punctuality 
in keeping her word, and discharging all the obligations of 
justice, by which Washington was distinguished, characterized 
his mother. There was a plain honesty and truth about her 
peculiar to that age, aud which has been ill-exchanged for 
empty professions and outward polish. As a native of Vir- 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 13 

ginia, she was hospitable by birthright, and always received 
her visitors with a smiling welcome. But they were never 
asked to stay but once, and she always speeded the parting 
guest, by affording every facility in her power. She possessed 
all those domestic habits and qualities that conft r value on 
woman, but had no desire to be distinguished by any other 
titles than those of a good wife and mother. She was once 
present, and occupied the seat of honour, at a ball given to 
Washington at Fredericksburg, while in the full measure of 
his well-earned glory, and when nine o'clock came, said to 
him with perfect simplicity, " Come, George, it is time to go 
home." 

Though the early years of Washington are shrouded in the 
mists of time, I have been enabled, through the kindness of 
one, whose modest and retiring dignity would scarcely for- 
give me were I to mention her name, to communicate some 
interesting particulars of his course of domestic discipline. It 
will appear from these, that the loss of one parent was amply 
supplied by the well-directed cares of another, and that he 
derived his character from the purest fountains of piety and 
wisdom. 

I have now before me a venerable volume, printed in the 
year 1685, entitled, "Contemplations, Moi-al and Divine, by 
Sir Matthew Hale, late Chief-justice of the Court of King'e- 
Bench," in which is written, with her own hand, the name of 
" Mary Washington.'' It bears the appearance of frequent use , 
and particular chapters are designated by marks of reference. 
It is the volume from which the mother of Wasliington was 
accustomed to read daily lessons of piety, morality, and wis- 
dom to her children. The value of such a relic cannot be 
better set forth than in the language which accompanied its 
transmission ; and I can only devoutly hope that the hal- 
lowed sanctuary of Mount Vernon may ever continue to be 
possessed by such kindred spirits as the writer of that letter. 



14 LIFE OF WASHINGTON 

'' I beg it may be carefully preaorved and returned, aa one 
of the family heir-looms which better feelings than pride "vvould 
retain for future generations to look on, even should they not 
study it. There is something in a reverence for religion 
favourable to a virtuous character ; and that reverence is in 
some measure kept alive by looking on a fixmily Bible, and 
solid works of divinity, which have descended from past 
generations. AVe associate with them recollections of ances- 
tral virtues, and when family tradition assures us they were 
the counsellors of past days, there is a feeling of the heart 
which turns to them in time of trial, and makes it good, I 
think, to leave them an honourable station, as friends to 
those that have gone before, and those who shall come after 
us, to speak in the cause of truth when we shall sleep in the 
grave." 

1 shall make some extracts from such portions of this book 
as appear to have been most used, not only because they con- 
tain the finest lessons of piety, morality, nnd wisdom, but 
most especially because 1 think the genu of Washington's 
character may be traced in the principles and practice they so 
elo(iuently inculcate. One of the chapters Avhich appears to 
have been selected as an ordinary lesson, and marked for that 
purpose in the table of contents, is denominated " The Great 
Audit," and seems to me to contain as much true wisdom as 
was ever embodied in the snme compass. I shall extract those 
parts which most singularly assimilate with the character of 
Washington, in order that my youthful readers may see whence 
it was that, in all probability, the Father of his Country de- 
rived his principles of action, and, if possible, imitate his vir- 
tues. 

"As touching my conscience, and the light thou hast given 
me in it, I have been very jealous of wounding, or grieving, or 
discouraging, or deadening it. I have therefore chosen rather 



tlFB! OP WASHINCHON. 15 

to foster that which seemed but indifferent, lest there should 
be somewhat in it that might be useful ; and would rather 
gratify my conscience with being too scrupulous than dis- 
please or disquiet it by being too venturous. I have still 
chosen, therefore, what might be probably lawful, than to do 
what might possibly be unlawful ; because, though I could 
not err in the former, I might in the latter. If things were 
disputable, whether they might be done, I rather chose to for- 
bear, because the lawfulness of my forbearance was unques- 
tionable. 

" Touching human prudence and understanding in affairs, 
and dexterity in the arranging of them : I have ever been care- 
ful to mingle justice and honesty with my prudence, and have 
always esteemed prudence, actuated by injustice and falsity, 
the arrantest and most devilish practice in the world, because 
it prostitutes thy gift to the service of hell, and mingles a 
beam of thy divine excellence with an extract of the devil's 
furnishing, making a man so much the worse by how much he 
is wiser than others. 

" I always thought that wisdom which, in a tradesman or 
a politician, was mingled with deceit, falsity, and injustice, 
deserved the same name, only the latter is so much the worse, 
because it is of the more public and general concernment. 
Yet because I have often observed great employments, espe- 
cially in public affairs, are sometimes under great temptations 
of mingling too much craft with prudence, and then to mis- 
call it policy, I have, as much as may be, avoided such tempta- 
tions, and if I have met with them, I have resolutely rejected 
them. 

" I have always observed that honesty and plain-dealing in 
transactions, as well public as private, is the best and sound- 
est prudence and policy, and commonly, at the long-run, over- 
matcheth craft and subtlety. And more advantage is derived 



16 LIFK OF WA8HINQT0N. 

from possessing the contidence of mankind, that can ever be 
made by deceiving them. 

"As human prudence is abused if mingled with falsity and 
deceit, though the end be ever so good, so it is much more de- 
based if directed to a bad end, to the dishonour of thy name, 
the oppression of thy people, the corrupting thy worship or 
truth, or to practice any injustice towards any person. 

"It hath been my care as not to err in the manner, so nei- 
ther in the end of the exercising of thy providence. I have 
ever esteemed thy prudence best employed when it was exer- 
cised in the preservation and support of thy truth, in contem- 
ning, discovering, and disappointing the designs of evil and 
treacherous men, in delivering the oppressed, in righting the 
injured, in preventing of wars and discords, in preserving the 
public peace and tranquillity of the people where I live, and 
in all those offices laid upon me by thy providence, under 
every relation. 

" When my end was most unquestionably good, I ever then 
took most heed that the means were suitable and justifiable. 
Because the better the end was, the more easily are we cozen- 
ed into the use of ill means to effect it. "We are too apt to 
dispense with ourselves in the practice of what is amiss, in 
order to the accomplishment of an end that is good ; we are 
apt, while with great intenseness of mind we gaze upon the 
end, not to take care what course we take so Ave attain it; 
and we are apt to think that God will dispense with, or at 
least overlook the miscarriages in our attempts, if the end be 
good. 

" Because many times, if not most times thy name and 
honour do more suffer by attempting a good end by bad means, 
than by attempting both a bad end, and by bad means. For 
bad ends are suitable to bad means ; they are alike — and it 
doth not immediately as such concern thy honour. But every 
thing that is good hath somewhat of thee in it, thy name, and 



LIFK OF WAaHINGTON. 17 

thy nature, and thy honour is written upon it; and the blemish 
that is cast upon it, is, in some measure, cast upon thee. The 
evil, and scandal, and ugliness that is in the means, is cast 
upon the end, and doth disparage and blemish it, and conse- 
quently, is dishonour to thee. To rob for burnt-offerings, or 
to lie for God, is a greater disservice to thy majesty, than to 
rob for rapine, or to lie for advantage." 

" Touching my eminence of place and power in this world, 
this is my account. I never sought or desired it, and that for 
these reasons. First, because I easily saw that it was rather 
a burden than a privilege. It made my charge and my ac- 
count the greater, my contentment and my rest the less. I 
found enough in it to make me decline it in respect to myself, 
but not any that could invite me to seek or desire it. 

" That external glory and splendour that attended it, I es- 
teemed as vain and frivolous in itself, a bait to allure vain and 
inconsiderate persons to affect and delight — not valuable 
enough to invite a considerate judgment to desire or undertake 
it. I esteemed them as the gilding that covers a bitter pill, 
and I looked through this dress and outside and easily saw 
that it covered a state obnoxious to danger, solicitude, care, 
trouble, envy, discontent, unquietness, temptation, and vex- 
ation. 

" I esteemed it a condition which, if there were any dis- 
tempers abroad, they would be infallibly hunting and pushing 
at it ; and if it found any corruptions within, either of pride, 
vain-glory, insolence, vindictiveness, or the like, it would be 
sure to draw them out and set them to work. And if they 
prevailed, it made my power and greatness not only my bur- 
den but my sin ; if they prevailed not, yet it required a most 
watchful, assiduous, and severe labour and industry to sup- 
press them. 

" When I undertook any place of power or eminence, first, 
I looked to my call thereunto to be such as I might discern to 



18 LIFE OF WA8HINQI0N. 

be thy call, not my own ambition. Second, that the place was 
such as might be answered by suitable abilities in some mea- 
sure to perform. Third, that my end in it might not be the 
eatisfaction of any pride, ambition, or vanity in myself, but to 
serve Providence and my generation honestly and faithfully. 

" In the holding or exercising these places, I kept mj' heart 
humble ; 1 valued not myself one rush the more for it. First, 
because I easily found that the base affectation of pride, which 
commonly is the fly that haunts such employments, would 
render me dishonourable to thy majesty, and discreditable in 
the employment. Second, because 1 easily saw that great 
places were slippery places, the mark of envy. It was, there- 
fore, always my care so to behave in them as I might be in a 
capacity to leave them ; and so to leave them, as that, when I 
had left them, I might have no scars and blemishes stick upon 
me. I carried, therefore, the same evenness of temper in 
holding them as might become me if I were without them. I 
found enough in great employments to make me sensible of 
the danger, trouble, and cares of them ; enough to make me 
humble, but not enough to make me proud and haHghty. 

"I never made use of my power or greatness to serve my 
own tarns, either to heap up riches, or oppress my neighbour, 
or to revenge injuries, or to uphold injustice. For, though 
others thought me great, I knew myself to be still the same, 
and in all things, besides the due execution of my place, my 
deportment was just the same as if I had been no such man ; 
for I very well and practically knew that place, and honour, 
and preferment are things extrinsical, and have no ingredience 
into the man. His value and estimate before, and under, and 
after his greatness is still the same in itself— as the counter 
that now stands for a penny, anon for sixpence, and anon for 
twelve pence is still the same counter, though its place and 
extrinsical denomiation be changed. 

" Though I have loved my reputation, and have been care- 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 19 

fill not to lose or impair it by my own neglect, yet I have 
looked upon it as a brittle thing that the devil aims to hit in 
an especial manner ; a thing that is much in the power of a 
false report, a mistake, or misappreliension to wound and 
hurt, and notwithstanding all my care, I am at the mercy of 
others, without God's wonderful overruling providence. 

" And as my reputation is the esteem that others have of 
me, so that esteem may be blemislied without my default. I 
have, therefore, always taken this care not to set my heart 
u])on my reputation. I will use all fidelity and honesty, and 
take care it shall not be lost by any default of mine, and if, 
notwithstanding all this, my reputation lie foiled by evil or 
man, I will patiently bear it, and content myself with the 
serenity of my own conscience. 

" When thy honour or the good of my country was concerned, 
I then thought it was a seasonable time to lay out my repu- 
tation for the advantage of either, and to act with it, and by 
it, and upon it, to the highest, in the use of all lawful means. 
And upon such an occasion, the counsel of Mordecai to Esther 
was my encouragement, — ' IVho knoiocth whether God hath 
not given thee this o'eputation and esteem for such a time as 
(his?'" 

This admirable book is filled with lessons of virtue and 
wisdom, clothed in the simple language of sincerity and 
truth, and adorned in its hoary dignity, like some ancient 
temple, with rich vines, bearing clusters of flowers, and 
beautiful even in its decay. It has evidently been much used, 
and especially in those passages containing enforcements and 
exemplifications of the higher duties of men. It is the work 
of a pious and venerable sage, whose whole life illustrated 
his own precepts, and without doubt contributed much to 
form the character of the man who scarcely conferred greater 
benefits on his country by his actions, than posterity will 
derive from his example. 



20 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

From this indissoluble connexion between good precepts 
imbibed iu early youth, and good actions performed in man- 
hood and old age, the children of America may learn the value 
of a virtuous education, and make a proper use of those op- 
portunities which the alTection of parents and the munificence 
of their country afford them. These are among the rich gifts, 
the " talents," bestowed upon them by the Giver of all good, 
and according as they use them well or ill will they be able 
to answer when called upon at the "great audit," when the 
trumpet shall sound, and the graves give up their dead. 

There is little reason to doubt that much of the education 
of AV^ashington was domestic ; that education which, more 
than all tlie rest, shapes the course and the character of the 
fu Al's man. This generally falls to the mother, and it is from 
the source whence children draw their life, that they for the 
most part derive those qualities and virtues which alone make 
life valuable to others and to themselves. A arm, tender, 
carefulj and sensible mother is the greatest blessing that ever 
fell to the lot of a human being. It is from her that the 
young shoot derives its bent ; it is from her it receives its 
nurture and its cultivation, and it is to her that the children 
of men should iu after life look up as the fountain of benefits 
which a whole life of grateful duty can scarcely repay. Such 
a mother had Washington, and such was her reward.. 

The estate at Pope's Creek, as appears from the will of« 
John Washington, a copy of which is in my possession, 
having been left to Lawrence "Washington, the father of 
George removed to another, situated on the river Eappahan- 
nock, in Stafford county, near Fredericksburg. After his 
death, however, though I cannot determine precisely at what 
age, he was sent down into "Westmoreland to his half-brother, 
Augustin, where he attended the school of a Mr. "Williams, 
said to have been an excellent teacher. Previous to his re- 
moval from his native place, he had received his first rudi- 



LIFR OF WASHINGTON. 21 

raents at a school kept by a man of the name of Hobby, a 
tenant of hia father, who, it is stated, officiated as sexton and 
grave-digger to the parish of Washington. The same authority 
says that Hobby lived to see his illustrious pupil riding on the 
full tide of bis glory, and was wont to boast that he " had 
laid the foundation of his greatness." 

At the school of Mr. Williams, he maintained that standing 
among boys which he was destined to sustain among men. 
Such was his character for veracity that his word was suffi- 
cient to settle a disputed point with the scholars, who were 
accustomed to receive his award with acclamations ; and 
such liis reputation for courage as well as firmness, that 
though he never on any occasion fought with his fellows, he 
never received either insult or wrong. He was as much be- 
loved as respected, and when he left school, it is said that 
the scholars parted from him with tears. 

From traditionary information which I rely on, it also ap- 
pears that at a very early age Washington gave indications 
of a military spirit, which is, however, so generally a charac- 
teristic of boys, that it can scarcely be said to distinguish one 
from another. He inherited from his father great strength 
and activity, and was accustomed, not only at school, but 
long afterwards, to practice the most athletic exercises. Thus 
it was that he prepared himself to encounter the fatigues and 
hardships of his future life. 

Five years after the death of his father, and, consequently, 
when under fifteen years of age, he left school for the last 
time. What were the acquisitions he carried with him can- 
not now be known. They were certainly confined to the 
ordinary branches of an English education, at a period when 
knowledge and the means of acquiring it in this country were 
not what they are now. A great portion of the youth of the 
colonies of any peculiar claims to distinction were sent abroad 
for their education ; the good people of that period seeming 



22 LIFE OF VVABHIKSTON. 

to have cherished a conviction that knowledge and learning 
could never be naturalized in the New World. 

While it serves to exalt the character and abilities of this 
famous man, to learn that though his means of acquiring 
knowledge werj not superior, nay, not equal, to those now 
within the reach of all for whom I write, yet did he in after- 
life, by the force of his genius and the exercise of a manly 
perseverance, supply all his deficiencies ; so that when called 
upon to take charge of the destinies of his country, and bear 
a load as heavy as was ever laid on the shoulders of man, he 
was found gloriously adequate to the task, and bore her tri- 
umphantly through a struggle which may be likened to the 
agonies of death resulting in immortality. As with him, so 
with my youthful readers, most of whose opportunities of ac- 
quiring knowledge are greater than those of Washington, and 
who, though they will never reach his fame, may still ration- 
ally aspire to an imitation of his perseverance, his integrity, 
and his patriotism. Opportunities for great actions occur but 
seldom, but every day and every hour presents occasion for 
the performance of our duties. 

Fortunately, perhaps, for Washington, he was not born rich. 
Th? property of his father was large, but it was to be shared 
among several children. Thus was he early in life led to look 
for fortune and consequence to that best of all sources, his 
own talents and exertions. From the period of his leaving 
the school in Westmoreland until old enough to engage in the 
active business of life, he resided either with his mother at 
the plantation on the Rappahannock, or with his half-brother, 
Lawrence Washington, at Mount Vernon. His leisure hours, 
it appears, were spent in athletic exercises, in which he ex- 
celled ; most especially in running, wrestling, and riding, in 
all of which, those who recollect him at that time agree in 
saying, he was greatly distinguished. Such was his skill, 
grace, and dignity in the latter especially, that during his 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 23 

whole life, he was considered the finest rider in Virginia, 
where this was a universal accomplishment. 

His sports and recreations were, however, at a raaturer age, 
and when his situation demanded it, or when his future pros- 
pects stimulated him to the exercise of those talents which 
he must have been conscious of possessing, mingled with 
study and reflection. Yet this habit of exercise continued 
with him through life, and, combined with the vigour and 
fortitude of his mind, enabled him to sustain without flinch- 
ing, all those vicissitudes and hardships which it was hi8 
destiny and duty to encounter in the cause of his country. 
It is by the aid of a strong body, a cultivated mind, and vir- 
tuous principles, that we are qualified to perform great actions 
for the benefit of mankind. 

George was the favourite son of his mother, yet he was not 
a spoiled child, as is usual in such cases. The strength and 
steadiness of his mind, equally with that of Mrs. Washington, 
preserved him from the evils of early indulgence. The sim- 
plicity of her character was combined with firmness and 
decision. The following anecdote equally illustrates the 
principles of mother and son, and is derived from an authentic 
source. 

Mrs. Washington was very fond of fine horses, insomuch 
that when on one occasion she bad become possessed of a pair 
of handsome grays. pIis caused them to be turned out to pas- 
ture in a meadow in front of the house, from whence they 
could at all times be seen from the window of her sitting-room. 
It chanced that she atone time owned a favourite young horse, 
which had never been broke to the saddle, and no one was 
permitted to ride. On some occasion, a party of youthful Nim- 
rods, on a visit to the house, proposed, after dinner, to mount 
the colt and make the circuit of the pasture. No one could 
do the feat, and many were defeated in attempting to mount, 
or thrown from his back afterwards, Washington, then but a 



24 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

youth, succeeded, however, and gave the favourite such a 
breathing that he at length fell under his rider, who immedi- 
ately went and told his mother what he had done. Her re- 
ply deserves to be recorded. " Young man," said she, "I for- 
give you, because you have the courage to tell the truth at 
once ; had you skulked away, I >should have despised you." 

It is easy to imagine that, acting on these principles, the re- 
sult should be, on the part of Washington, an inflexible regard 
to the obligations of sincerity and truth. Accordingly, such 
was the character of this great and virtuous citizen, during the 
whole course of his noble and exemplary life, in all situations, 
and under all circumstances. No man, perhaps, ever occupied 
stations, both in war and peace, more decidedly calculated to 
draw his frailties before the world, or instigate the bitterest 
calumnies. Yet he passed through his higli career unstained 
by a single imputation of falsehood, deception, or crime ; the 
sanctity of his character triumphed over the violence of 
national hostility and party feelings, and he died, as he had 
lived, with a fame as pure as ever fell to the lot of man. 

Such are the few materials I have been able to collect, con- 
cerning the first eighteen years of Washington's life. No one 
probably anticipated his future eminence, for none could fore- 
see that great revolution which has excited the pulse of the 
world. None prophesied at that time that he would one day 
become the first, among the first of every age, the champion of 
the liberties of mankind, the model of virtuous heroism, and, 
consequently, none were found to preserve or record that por- 
tion of the lives of ordinary men, which does not deserve to 
be remembered. Nor perhaps is this ommission to be regretted 
when we see so many illustrious persons, who, contem- 
plated in the distance and through the mists of time, assume 
the port of giants, dwindle into pigmies, by having all their 
pigmy actions placed before the world. Those heroes always 
fare best whose memories are traditionary rather than histori- 



LIFK OF WASHINGTON. 25 

cal^ or whose lives have lieen written long after their little pe- 
culiarities and weaknesses, the thousand insignificant nothings 
that make up so large a portion of human actions, have passed 
into oblivion, and nothing is remembered but what is intrin- 
sically great. It has hitherto been found impossible to mar 
the severe simplicity of Washington's greatness by coupling it 
with puerilities that have neither the merit of illustrating hia 
character, or increasing our stores of useful knowledge. 

That he had established a reputation which placed hiui very 
early in life above his contemporaries, can hardly be doubted, 
when my young readers shall learn that at the age of nineteen he 
was appointed a deputy Adjutant-General of the State of Vir- 
ginia, and this, too, at a period when the attention of the go- 
vernment had been turned to the training of her provincial 
troops, in consequence of the alleged encroachments of the 
French on the Oliio. Such an appointment, to so young a man, 
iei presumptive evidence that he had thus early attracted no- 
tice on the score of some extraordinary qualifications. 

Previous to this, howevei", he harl, on a visit to his half- 
brother Lawrence, become laiowu to Mr. William Fairfax, a 
near relative of Lord Fairfax, then proprietor of the Northern 
Neck of Virginia, one of the largest estates that ever foil to 
the lot of a private individual. A connection had taken place 
between the Washington and Fairfax families, in consequence 
of the marriage of Laurence Washington with a sister of Wi- 
liam Fairfax, then a member of the Virginia Council. The 
latter gentleman introduced Washington to Lord Fairfax, who 
gave him the appointment of surveyor to his vast estate, in 
consequence of which he had frequent occasion to explore the un- 
inhabited regions of the back woods, where he became accus- 
tomed to a life of exposure, and strengthened his habits and 
constitution by a series of hardships and exposures. Lord 
Fairfax lived to hear of Cornwallis lajicg downhia arnis to hig 

B 



26 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

former surveyor, when as tradition says, he called for his per- 
sonal attendant, an old negro, and cried out, " Take me to 
bed, it is high time for me to die!" It is certain that he never 
left it till carried to his grave. 

The character, habits and inclinations of Washington were, 
however, decidedly military. At the age of fourteen he ap- 
plied for and received a warrant of midshipman in the Britisli 
navy. Happily for himself, for his country, for the world, the 
interference and entreaties of his mother induced him to re- 
lincjuish it very unwillingly, and preserved to the cause of 
liberty its most illustrious champion. Had it been otherwise^ 
he who became the deliverer of his country might have arrived, 
perhaps, at the dignity of a post- captain. It seems like an 
interposition of Providence in behalf of the liberties of man- 
kind. His baggage was already onboard a man-of-war riding 
in the Potomac just below Mount Vernon, when the entreaties 
of his mother induced him to sacrifice his long-cherished 
wishes to the duties of a son. 

But it seems he did not the less cultivate a knowledge of the 
theory and practice of war. A certain Adjutant Muse, of the 
county of Westmoi'land, acquainted with military tactics, who 
had accompanied Lawrence Washington in the expedition 
against Carthagena, taught George the manual exercise, in which 
he soon acquired great dexterity. He also borrowed of this per- 
son certain treatises on the art of war, by the aid of which he 
acquired a knowledge, at least, of its theory, and became an 
expert fencer under the tuition of Monsieur Van Braam, who 
was subsequently his interpreter in his intercourse with the 
French on the Ohio. There can be little doubt that it was a 
knowledge of these acquirements, and of his decided military 
propensities, that so early jjointed him out to ihe notice of his 
government. The foundation of our future fortunes is laid in 
the days of our youth ; the blossoms when blighted in the 
spring, never produce the rich fruits of summer and autumn. 



LIFK Oe WASHINaTON. 27 

Had not Washington thus early cultivated his mind and in- 
vigorated his body, instead of becoming the sword and shield 
of freedom, its defender and its mentor, he might have sunk 
under the weight of his after burthens, and crushed himself 
with the ruins of his country. 

Hitherto I have confined my narrative to the private life and 
character of Washington, During the period over which we 
have passed, he was silently preparing himself, by useful stu- 
dies, active employment, and athletic exercises, for that mag- 
nificent career which opened before him vista after vista, 
by slow and painful labours, until, through a series of disasters 
and triumphs — of gloomy hopes and bitter disappointments — 
of long-suffering and keen anxieties — of virtuous sacrifices, 
unconquerable courage, patience, fortitude, and perseverance, 
animated by patriotism, and inspired by a genius equal to 
every emergency, he reached the summit of his imperishable 
fame. I am now to exhibit him to my youthful readers in new 
and trying situations, though but a boy, he became charged 
with the affairs of men, and the interests of states. It will be 
found that, like the sun, as he rose in the firmament, he diffiised 
additional light and warmth over a wider circumference. 



28 LIFK OF WASHINffTOX. 



CHAPTER II. 

Disputes between France and England founded ou the right of Discovery. En- 
croachmcnti on the Ohio. Situation and Apprehensions of Virginia. Pre- 
parations for Defence. Washington appointed Adjutant-General. Volun- 
teers to carry a Letter to the French Commandant on the Ohio. Incident* 
on the Journey. Extracts from liis Journal. Is shot at by an Indian. Is 
near perisliing from the Cold, and narrowly escapes Drowning. Contrast 
between Washington in the Wilderness and Washington the Father of his 
Country. Returns to Williamsburg. 

It is not necessary to discuss the conHicting claims of France 
and England to the territory of North America. The one has 
now no possessions left, and the period is probably not far 
distant when the New "World will be entirely emancipated 
from the dominion of those who, though they can scarcely 
govern at home, aspire to control the distant regions of the 
earth. These claims were etpially founded on the right of 
discover}"^, a right for the most part much more satisfactory to 
the discoverer tlian the discovered. It is enough to say, that 
between these two rival nations, their claims comprehended 
nearly the whole of this great conlinent, from the Gulf of 
Mexico to Hudson's Bay, and from the Atlantic to tlie utter- 
most regions of the unexplored west. One might suppose 
here was enough for both ; but experience teaches us that the 
possession of much is only a prelude to the desire of more ; 
and, accordingly, the two nations began to dispute and ulti- 
mately to fight about a wilderness of which neither knew the 
boundaries or dimensions. 

As my design is rather to write the life of Washington than 
the liistoiy of the era in which he flourished, I shall press 
nothing into the service but what seems necessary to this 
purpose. It will be sufficient to state that the pretensions of 
the French interfered with those of the English, and the 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 29 

ancient rivalry of the two nations requiring but a single 
spark to set both in a flame, hostilities were the natural con- 
sequence of their conflicting ambition. The French advanced 
from one step to another, until at length they reached the 
Ohio, and subsequently established a post at the junction of 
the Alleghany and Monongahela rivers, on the spot where 
Pittsburg now stands. The ultimate object of their plans 
Avas to confine the English to the country east of the Alle- 
ghany mountains, and, of consequence, give the French a de- 
cided superiority on this continent. 

Virginia was especially interested in these encroachments. 
Her chartered limits extended quite across from sea to sea, 
and her frontier lay exposed to the hostilities of the French 
on the Ohio, aided by the Indians, over whom they always 
acquired a paramount influence by their religion, their polite- 
ness, and their gallantry. These movements on the Ohio of 
consequence excited great apprehensions in the Ancient Do- 
minion, and preparations -were made to meet what might 
follow by raising and disciplining the provincial militia. The 
eyes of the state were turned to the valiant spirits of her 
youthful sons, and the first public station conferred on Wash- 
ington was that of adjutant-general of Virginia, with the 
rank of Major, when he was scarcely nineteen years of age. 
But with the ardent vigour of youth he combined the qualities 
of mature manhood, and the appointment was not only jus- 
tified by prudence, but by the whole tenor of his after-life. 

Lieutenant Governor Dinwiddle, then the representative of 
royalty in Virginia, became alarmed, and the state more than 
partook in his apprehensions. At that period, the whole 
country west of the AUeghanies was one vast wilderness? 
roamed by wild beasts, and Indians equally savage and wild- 
The great valley of the Shenandoah, now rich with the 
labours of thousands and tens of thousands of independent 
farmers, was then thinly inhabited by white men, who could 



99 IiOT Oy WABHINCITOM. 

not Bee the smoke of their neighbours' chimneys; and Win- 
chester was just on the edge of the civilized world towards 
the west. Often had they suffered from the incursions of 
bloody and remorseless savages, sparing neither sex nor age, 
and wreaking their inhuman rage on the breathless bodies 
after their souls had departed from the scene of sutFering. The 
approach of the French, their probable hostile views, and 
their known influence over the wild and wayward children of 
the forest, created the most gloomy anticipations that those 
scenes, which, as described by the aged settlers to their 
children, made them shiver and turn pale, would be once 
more renewed with aggravated horrors. 

To avert these dangers, to remonstrate against these en- 
croachments, to obtain information of the feelings cherished by 
the Indians towards the respective claimants to the empire of 
the New World, and to conciliate them by everj-^ means in his 
power, Governor Dinwiddie determined to despatch an envoy 
to St. Pien'e, the French commandant on the Ohio. This was 
no embassy of state, no courtly pageant, where the vanity of 
man may be gratified by an intercourse with the great. It 
was a service full of danger and difficulty; it required cour- 
age, fortitude, perseverance, and personal vigour, to endure 
the hardships and perils of the pathless solitudes of nature. 
Many declined the ungrateful service, and not one of the aids 
or attendants of the governor was willing to undertake the 
task. In this crisis, young Washington, before the laws of 
his country had recognised him as a man, volunteered his ser- 
vices. The governor, a sturdy old Scotchman, accepted the 
tender, saying, at the sair>e time, " Faith, you're a brave lad, 
and, if you play your cards well, you shall have no cause to 
repent your bargain." 

Requiring but a single day to make his preparations, he 
departed into the wide wilderness, accompanied by Van 
Braam, his old fencing-master, as his interpreter, and two 



LIFR OF WASHINGTON. 31 

servants), bearing the governor's letter to the French com- 
mandant. It was now the middle of autumn, and the forests 
began to shed their brown leaves, which covered the earth 
with her autumnal carpet. A sort of military road conducted 
the party as far as Will's Creek, beyond which a guide was 
necessary. They arrived there on the fourteenth of No- 
vember, and next day, having engaged a guide and four addi- 
tional attendants, proceeded on their way. Excessive rains, 
aided by the melting of the snows, had so swelled the streams 
which crossed their route, that the journey was one of con- 
tinued labour and difficulty. It was not until the eighth day 
after their departure from Will's Creek, that they reached the 
junction of the Alleghany and Monongahela rivers. 

Having preceded his attendants and baggage on this occa- 
sion, as was always his custom in danger and difficulty, he 
occupied his time until their arrivaMn a manner which, as it 
illustrates the sagacity and foresight of a youth under twenty, 
is peculiarly worthy the notice of my young readers. I ex- 
tract the words from the journal of Washington liimself, a 
copy of which is now before me. " As I got down before the 
canoe, I spent some time in viewing the rivers and land in 
the fork, which I think extremely well situated for a fort, as 
it has the absolute command of both rivers. The land at the 
point is twenty-five feet above the common level of the wa- 
ter, and a considerable bottom o! flat well-timbered land all 
round it, well calculated for building. The rivers are each a 
quarter of a mile wide, and run here at nearly right angles; 
Alleghany bearing north-east, and Monongahela south-east. 
The former of these is very rapid running water ; the other 
deep and still, without any perceptible fall." The French, 
who chose their military positions in this country with a skill 
and foresight which has ever since been a subject of admira- 
tion, soon after erected a fort on this very spot, where has 
«ince grown up the great manufacturing city of Pittsburg. 



82 LfFK OF WASHINGTON. 

I shoulfl here introduce an entire copy of this interesting 
joumal, the earliest production of ■Washington on record, did 
not the design I Iuiac in view contine this work within a 
limited space. I'or the same reason I shall content myself 
with detailing a few of the most interesting particulars con- 
nected with the expedition. He delivered his letter to the 
French commandant, and endeavoured to induce the Indian 
chiefs of the neighbouring tribes to meet him in council, a 
measure which the commandant used all his efforts to pre- 
vent. Finally, he ascertained the views of the French go- 
vernment through M. .Toncaire and other officers, who de- 
clared, at an entertainment given to Washington, that it was 
their intention to take possession of the Ohio, which they 
claimed on the ground of its discovery by the celebrated and 
unfortunate La Salle. 

Having completed the purpose of his mission, so far as was 
practicable, he prepared to set out on his return. But, by 
this time, his horses had become too weak to carry the pro- 
visions necessary to subsist them in the wilderness. Wash- 
ington at once determined to proceed on foot to some point 
wliere others might be procured. I shall give one more ex- 
tract from his journal, because it affords a noble example of 
resolution and hardihood to my youthful readers. The con- 
trast between Washington trudging through the pathleae 
wilderness, with no other garment than his watch-coat, a 
gan in his hand, and a jiack on his shoulders, with Washinsr- 
ton at the head of armies, wielding the destiny of a great 
people, sustaining the inestimable rights of the human race, 
living the object of the world's admiration, and dying with 
the sacred name of Father of his Country, is alike striking 
for its romantic singularity, as for its sublime moral. Virtue, 
courage, and patriotism, are the three great steps of Jacob's 
ladder, which lead from earth to heaven. 

"I took," he says, '-my necessary papers, pulled off my 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 33 

clothes, and tied myself up iu a watch-coat. Then, with gun 
in hand, and pack on my back, in which were my papers and 
provisions, I set out with Mr. Gist the 26th (of December.) 
The next day, after we had passed a place called Murdering 
Town, we fell in with a party of French Indians who had lain 
in wait for us. One of them fired at us, not fifteen steps off, 
but fortunately missed. We took the fellow into custody, and 
kept him till nine o'clock at night, then let him go, and walked 
the remaining part of the night without making any stop, that 
we might get the start so far as to be out of the reach of pur- 
suit the next day, since we were well assured they would fol- 
low our track as soon as it was light. The next day we con- 
tinued travelling until quite dark, and got to the river about 
two miles above Shanopin. We expected to have found the 
river frozen, but it was not, except about fifty yards from the 
shore. The ice, I suppose, had broken up above, for it was 
driving in vast quantities. 

"There was no way of getting over but on a raft, which we 
set about with but one poor hatchet, and finished just after 
sun-setting. This was a whole day's work. We Lext launch- 
ed it — then went on board and set off — but before we were 
half over, we were jammed in the ice in such a manner that 
we expected every moment our raft to sink, and ourselves to 
perish. I put out my setting- pole to try and stop the raft, 
that the ice might pass by, when the rapidity of the stream 
threw it with such force against the pole, that it jerked me 
out into ten feet water ; but I fortunately saved myself by 
catching hold of one of the raft-logs. Notwithstanding all 
our efforts, we could not get to either shore, but were obliged, 
as we were near an island, to quit our raft and make for it. 

" The cold was extremely severe, and Mr. Gist had all his 
fingers and some of his toes frozen. The water was shut up 
so hard that we found no difficulty in getting off the island 



34 LIFB OF WASEnNttTON. 

the next morning on the ice, and proceeding to Mr. Fraxier's. 
We met here with twenty warriors who were going to the 
southward to war ; but coming to a place at the head of the 
Great Kenawha, where they found seven people killed and 
scalped (all but one Avoman Avith light hair), they turned about 
and ran back, for fear the inhabitants should rise, and take 
them for the authors of the murders . They report that the 
bodies were lying about the house, and some of them torn and 
eaten by the hogs. As we intended to take horses here, and 
it required some time to find them, I went up three miles to 
the Yohogany to visit Queen AUequippa, who had expressed 
great concern that we passed her in going to the fort. I made 
her a present of a watch-coat and a bottle of rum, which lat- 
ter was thought much the best present of the two." 

In the midst of such wild scenes, Indian haunts, and forest 
adventures, were the first years devoted by Washington to the 
service of his country passed. It might have been expected 
that this apprenticeship to savage warfare, this daily expe- 
rience of bloody massacres and inhuman barbarity, would have 
aided in making his deportment rough and his disposition fero- 
cious. But it was not so. In the whole course of his after- 
life he maintained a mild yet dignified courtesy to all mankind, 
and throughout his long military career not one act of cruelty 
was ever justly laid to his charge. His piety and his princi- 
ples placed him above the reach of contamination, and neither 
adversity nor prosperitj' could corrupt his mind or influence 
his manners. The gold was too pure to become rusted by 
any vicissitudes. 

He arrived at Williamsburg, then the seat of goverment in 
Virginia, where he waited on the governor, delivered the 
answer of the French commandant on the Ohio to his let- 
ter, and gave an account of his proceedings, which met the 
entire approbation of that oflBcer. Nor was this all. The 
House of Burgesses was then in session, and Washington hap- 



tlFK OF WASHINeHON. 35 

penmg to enter the gallery, the speaker immediately roae and 
moved that " the thanks of the House be given to Major Wash- 
ington, who now sits in the gallery, for the gallant manner in 
which he executed the important trust lately reposed in him 
by his excellency Governor Dinwiddle." Every member of 
the House now rose and saluted Washington with a general 
bow, and the sentiment of the speaker was echoed by more 
than one member expressing his sense of his merit and services. 
Washington in vain attempted to make his acknowledgments 
for this high honour. His voice failed him, and the frame that 
never before or after trembled in the presence of an enemy, 
now faltered under the compliments of assembled friends. It 
was then that the speaker, noticing his unconquerable embar- 
rassment, made him this just and memorable compliment, — 
" Sit down, Major Washington ; your modesty is alone equal 
to your merit." It will appear in the sequel that this modesty 
accompained him through his whole life, and while it acted as 
a stimulus to new exertions, checked every feeling, or, at 
least, exhibition, of pride at their success. Though, in all 
probability aware of his superiority over other men, this con- 
sciousness never operated to diminish his ardour to increase it 
by every means in his power ; nor did he ever yield to the 
common foible of youth, which converts premature honours 
into an excuse for a total remission of all future efforts to de- 
serve them. 



SB ITKK OK WA8HTNOTON. 



CHAPTER III. 

Washington accompanies his Brother Lawrence to Bermuda, where he gets the 
Small-pox. Affection of Lawrence for his Brother Georpe. He rejoices iu 
his rising reputation, predicts his future Eminence, and, when he dies, leaves 
him the Estate at Mount Vernon. Troubles between France and England. 
Virginia raises a Regiment. AVashington declines the Command, but accepts 
the Post of Lieutenant Colonel. Proceeds to the Great Meadows and builds 
Fort Necessity. Succeeds to the Command of the Regiment. Advances to- 
u-ards Fort Duquesne. Retreats to his Fort. Is besieged and captured. Re- ■ 
tires from the Service soon after in Disgust, but accepts the Post of Volunteer 
Aid to General Braddock. Departure for Fort Duquesne. 

During the interim between his expedition to the Ohio and 
his appointment as second iu command of the regiment raised 
by Virginia to protect herself against the anticipated hostility of 
the French and Indians, Washington accompanied his brother 
Lawrence in a voyage to Bennuda for the benelit of his health. 
Lawrence had a great aftection for George, and often pressed 
him to reside with him at Mount Vernon. But the young 
man wisely preferred making his own way in the world 
by his own exertions, and, as I have before related, accepted 
the situation of surveyor to the estate of Lord Fairfax. 

lie, howtner, yielded to the M'ishes of his brother, whom he 
tenderly loved, and accompanied him to Bermuda. He was 
then wasting away with a consumption, from which he never 
recovered. "NVhileat the island, AVashington caught the small- 
pox, with which he became slightly marked for the remainder 
of his life. It is traditionaiy in the family that the brothers 
never met after Geoi'ge departed on the expedition in which 
he was finally captured by the French and Indians, as will be 
related in the sequel. Lawrence, however, often heard of the 
exploits of bis favourite brother, rejoiced in his growing fame, 
predicted liiti future eminonco, and, when he died, left him the 



LIb-K OK WASWINttXON. 37 

estate at Moimt Vernon, siuce become tlio sbriue of thousands 
uf pilgrims from anioug his countrymen and distant nations. 

In the mean time, the conflicting claims of France and Eng- 
land were coming to a crisis, and that crisis is always war. 
The news of the alleged encroachments of the former having 
reached the British ministers, measures were taken for the for- 
mation of a confederacy among the colonies, for the purposes 
of defence or retaliation. As the dangers were mutual, al- 
though some were more exposed than t)ther8, each was to con- 
tribute its proportion to the general defence in case of need. 
Virginia being the nearest, naturally expected the first blow, 
and was of course most pporopt in preparing for the storm. A 
regiment was raised, and Washington was placed second to 
Colonel Yry, who dying shortly after, the command devolved 
on the former. 

In the perusal of this work, my young readers will bear in 
mind, I trust, that the means used for attaining their ends are 
not to be judged of by their magnitude, but their consequences. 
Great battles and oceans of bloodshed frequently produce no- 
thing but their inevitable results, misery and despair, while 
often events and instruments apparently the most insignilicaut 
lead to consequences which affect the welfare of millions, and 
change the relations of the Avorld. This remark is especially 
applicable to the history of the United States from the first 
moment of the landing of the pilgi-ims at Jamestown and Ply- 
mouth to the present time. (Jften on the lives of a few wan- 
derers in the interminable wilderness of the west, depended, 
perhaps, the question whether millions of beings should be 
now in existence or should never have existed ; and often on 
circumstances, in themselves apparently of no consequence 
but to those immediately interested, hung the destinies of a 
vast continent and the future balance of the universe. The 
events of our history are therefore not to be eptimated by their 



38' LIPK OP WASHINGTON. 

apparent magnitude at the time they occurred. An obscure 
battle in the woods, between white men and Indians, often 
terminated the existence of a nation, and decided the mastery 
of territories now inhabited by increasing millions ; and many 
are the forgotten acts of virtuous heroism which, in their con- 
sequences, out-do the victories of Alexander and Bonaparte. 
Their conquests are only recorded in history, and the world, 
which was rudely jostled out of place by their ambition, has 
returned again to its orbit. But the bow that was bent by 
the energies of the early settlers of our country has never be- 
come relaxed ; nothing has gone back, every thing has moved, 
and is still moving, onward ; and the actions I am now about 
to relate of Washington, though many of them in themselves 
of no great magnitude when clothed in words, if followed out 
in their consequences will be found to have carried with them 
effects that confer a degree of importance far, very far, beyond 
those of many of the most renowned warriors of ancient or 
modern times. If there ever was a people who should love 
and venerate their ancestors, it is the inhabitants of these 
United States, who have received from their sufferings and 
heroism the patrimony of a New World, the legacy of freedom 
and prosperity. 

Washington having succeeded to the command, for which, 
it appears, he was orginally intended, by the death of Colonel 
Fry, prepared for action with his usual decision and celerity. 
As the first military character in Virginia, though yet a mere 
youth, not quite twenty-one years old, he had been strongly 
spoken of for the command of this little force in the first in- 
stance. But where others aspired to honours, he only laboured 
to deserve them. In a letter to a member of the House of 
Burgesses, he says, " The command of the whole force is what 
I neither look for, expect or desire ; for I am impartial enough 
to confess it is a charge too great for my youth and inexperi- 
ence to be entrusted with. Knowing this, I have too sincere 



tlPB or WASHIKe^TON. 39 

a love for my country to undertake that which may tend to 
her prejudice. But if I could entertain hopes that you thought 
me worthy of the post of Lieutenant-Colonel, and would 
favour me so far as to mention it at the appointment of officers, 
I could not but entertain a true sense of the kindness." Thus, 
on this, as on every other occasion of his life, did Washington 
exemplify the great truth that those who are most fitted for 
high stations are always the last to seek them. 

At the head of only two companies of the regiment, to the 
command of which he soon succeeded, Washington, some- 
time in the spring of 1754, penetrated into the Alleghany 
mountains, to a place called the Great Meadows. The Blue 
Ridge was at that time the frontier of Virginia, The great 
valley between that and the AUeghanies, now one of the rich- 
est regions of the United States, was tenanted but by a few 
straggling settlers from Pennsylvania, whose voices were like 
one crying in the wilderness, and whose history is one of Indian 
wars and Indian massacre. Placed beyond the reach of the pro- 
tection or of the restraint of the laws and institutions of the 
social state, they for several years maintained a sort of inde- 
pendent existence, governed by the statutes of necessity alone ; 
making war against the wandering tribes of the neighbouring 
forests, either in self-defence or for purposes of vengeance, 
unchecked and unaided by the state government. The people 
thus situated, united only by the common tie of mutual dangers, 
although they partook of the habits and manners of social life, 
were as near a state of nature, as to government, as is com- 
patable with civilization. 

This position at the Great Meadows brought him in advance 
towards the French posts, and enabled Washington to protect 
the frontier of Virginia. While here, receiving information 
that the French had commenced hostilities by dispersing a 
party in the employment of the Ohio company, he advanced 
upon and surrounded a detachment, aided by a dark and rainy 



40 IlFli OK -WASUlNeTON. 

wight. At the dawn of day, a fire was commenced upon them 
which killed their commander, upon which the rest immedi- 
ately surrendered, with the exception of one man, who escaped 

Reinforced by the arrival of the remainder of the regiment> 
and by two companies of regular troops, Washington, after 
throwing up a small intrenchment at the Great Meadows ^ 
which he called Fort Necessity, and in the erection of which 
he laboured with tlie rest, advanced on Fort Duquesnc. This 
>ya3 now tlip strong-hold of the I'rench on the Ohio, and ex- 
hibited a testimony of the accuracy of his military judgment 
having been erected on the very spot indicated by Washington . 
in his journal as a fine military position. Early in his march, 
however, he was met by a party of friendly Indians, who, in 
their figurative language, told him the French and tlieir copper- 
coloured confederates " were as numerous as the pigeons in 
the woods, and coming like birds on the wing." 

By the advice of a council of war, as it was now determined 
to retreat to the Great INIeadows. Accordingly the little army 
returned to Fort Necessity, where, before they could complete 
their jjreparations for defence, they were attacked by De Villier 
at the head of fifteen hundred men, and forced to surrender, 
after a gallant defence. The garrison obtained the most hon- 
ourable terms : they were allowed to march out with the 
honours of war, retaining their baggage and arms, and to re- 
turn home without being molested. 

Though the expedition proved unsuccessful, yet ■Washington 
in this, as in every other disaster of his life, acquired addi- 
tional reputation. The legislature of Virginia gave a gratuity 
to the soldiei-s, and voted its thanks to the officers and their 
commander. Thus was this high honour conferred for the se- 
cond time on a youth scarcely arrived at the age of manhood. 
A similar instance, I believe, does not occur in the history of 
his country. The gratuity to the private?, and the vote of 
hanks, were not unmerited, since it appears that the attack, 



LIFK OF WASHINGTON. 41 

of the fort was sustained by not more than thi-ee hundred of 
the Virginia regiment, the remainder having retired on learn- 
ing that the French and Indians vvere "as thick as pigeons in 
the woods." 

Shortly after this event the military career of Washington 
was arrested for a time by an ordinance of Governor Dinwid- 
die, jegulating the rank of the provincial officers serving with 
those of his Majcfsty's regular troops. These last were to take 
rank of all those commissioned by the colonial governors, 
without regard to the date of commission. This was not all ; 
insult and injustice were carried so far as to divest the ge- 
neral and field officers of the provincial troops of all rank 
when serving with those of a similar grade bearing the ro3'al 
commission. The conduct of Washington may easily be anti- 
cipated. He disdained to acquiesce in this insulting prefer- 
ence, and declaring bis willingness to serve his country at all 
times, when it did not carry with it the sacrifice of his honour, 
resigned his commission. 

Being now, by the death of his brother ^Lawrence, which 
took place during his expedition to the Great Meadows, pos- 
sessed of the estate of Mount "\"ernon, Washington retired 
thither to the enjoyment of those rural occupations and rural 
exercises, which he loved next to the perils of war when en- 
countered in the service of his native country. But scarcely 
had he settled himself at this magnificent spot, when the roar 
of cannon was heard echoing along the Potomac, at the open- 
ing of the spring of \1oo. An English squadron sailed up the 
river, landed an army at Belhaven, now called Alexandria, 
under the command of General Braddock, soon afterwards so 
famous for his obstinacy, imprudence, and consequent dis- 
asters. 

General Braddock had lauded at the Capes of Virginia, and 
proceeded to Williamsburg, the seat of government, where h9 
consulted with General Dinwiddle. He inquired for Colonel 



Washington, with whose character he was well acquainted, 
and expressed a wish to see him. On being informed of his 
resignation and the cause, he is said to have exclaimed that 
"he was a lad of sense and spirit, and had acted as became a 
soldier and a man of honour." He immediately wrote him a 
pressing invitation to assume the situation of volunteer aid- 
de-camp, which involved no question of rank, and which, 
after consultation with his family, was accepted. Washington 
once more resumed his military career by joining the British 
forces at Belhaven. 

These were shortly after reinforced by three companies of 
Virginia riflemen, raised by an act of the legislature, and con- 
sisting of as brave, hardy spirits as ever drew a trigger. This 
accession made the army about two thousand strong, and with 
these, in the month of June, I15h, Braddock set forth in his 
march through the wilderness, from whence he and many 
others of his companions never returned. 



I.I7B OF WASHIN€1T0N. 49 



CHAPTER IV. 

Departure of Washington with Braddock's Army. Falls sick and is left at the 
Great Meadows. Joins the Army the Day before the Battle. His advice 
disregarded. The Army surprised and defeated. , Braddock shot. Behaviour 
of Washington during the Fight. Retreat of the Army. Predictions of the 
Old Indian Chief and the Rev. Mt. Davies. Sixteen Companies raised, and 
the Command given to Washington. Sufferings of the People of the Frontier 
trom Indian Barbarity. Difficulties in defending them. Picture of Washing- 
ton in his Uniform of Provincial Colonel. His Account of the Massacre of a 
Family by the Indians. Jealousy and Imbecility of Governor Dinwiddle. 
Speech of Colonel Barre. Lord Loudon. Franklin's Account of him. Ge- 
neral Forbes. Expedition against, and Capture of. Fort Duquesne. War 
carried to the Northern Frontier. Washington resigns his Commission. 

The troops under Braddock marched in two divisions to the 
old station at the Little Meadows. On the way, Washington 
was attacked by a fever, and became so ill that the command- 
ing officer insisted upon his remaining until the rear of the 
army came up under Colonel Dunbar. He consented, much 
against his will ; but the instant he was able, pushed on and 
joined Braddock the evening before he fell into that fatal am- 
buscade where he perished with many other gallant spirits, 
not in a blaze of glory, but in the obscurity of the dismal 
forests. 

Washington, on rejoining the army, urged upon General 
Braddock the necessity of increasing and incessant caution. 
He dwelt much on the silent, unseen motions of the warriors 
of the woods, who come like birds on the wing, without being 
preceded by any indications of their approach, or leaving a 
trace behind them. But the fate of Braddock was decreed ; 
or, rather, his own conduct sealed that destiny which ever 
follows at the heels of folly and imprudence. He despised 
the advice of wisdom and experience, and bitterly did he suf- 



44 jiirE OV WASHINGTON. 

fer the penalty. The silly pride of a British officer disdained 
the lessons of a provincial youth who had never fought on the 
bloody plains of Flanders. There can be no doubt that the 
superiority affected by the natives of England over those of 
the American colonies, was one of the silent yet effective 
causes of the Revolution. 

The army halted at Cumberland for some days and then 
proceeded to its ruin. (Contrary to the advice of "Washington, 
who wished to lead with his \'irginians, the British grenadiers 
marched in front about half a mile a-head ; the Virginia 
troops followed ; and the rest of the army brought up the 
rear. The ground was covered •with whortleberrj' bushes 
reaching to the horses' l)ellies until they gained the top of a 
hill, which commanded an extensive prospect far a-head. 
Here a council was held, during which, the traditionary au- 
thority I follow describes Braddock as standing with a fusee 
in his right hand, the breech on the ground, and rubbing the 
leaves with his toe as if in great perplexitj', without saying 
a word. 

The consultation over, they proceeded onward through the 
deep woods, the order of march being changed, and the in- 
fantry in advance. "When within about seven miles of Fort 
Duqiiesne, and passing through a narrow defile, a fire from 
some ambushed enemy arrested their march and laid many a 
soldier dead on the ground. Nothing was seen but the smoke 
of the unerring rifle rising above the tops of the woods, and 
nothing heard but the report of the fatal weapons. There 
was a dead silence among the savages and their allies, who, 
masked behind the trees, were equally invisible with the great 
king of terrors whose work they were performing. 

The army of Braddock and the general himself were both 
taken by surpritse, and the consequence was a total neglect or 
forgetfulness of the proper mode of defence or attack. After 
a few discharges ft-'.tm the unseen destroyers in the wood, 



LIKE OF WASHINaXON". 45 

Washington remained of all the aids alive. In. fact^ the whole 
duties of the day devolved on him, and the entire resistance 
on the troops of Virginia. He exposed himself to thousands 
of unerring marksmen ; his clothes were perforated with bul- 
lets, and twice was his horse shot under him. Yet he escaped 
Avithout a wound, as if to justify the prediction of the old 
Indian warrior that led the hostile savages, who used loiij? 
afterwards to declare — " That man was never to be killed by 
a bullet, for he had seventeen times had a fair shot at liim with 
his rifle, yet could not bring him down." 

All accounts agree that the unfortunate Braddock behaved 
with great gallantry, though with little discretion, in this 
trying situation. He encouraged his soldiers, and was crying 
out with his speaking-trumpet, " Hurrah, boys ! lose the 
saddle or win the horse !" when a bullet struck him, and he 
fell to the ground, exclaiming — '' Ha, boys ! I'm gone !" 
During all this time not a cannon had been fired by the British 
forces. It was at this moment that one who was with him 
at the time, who is still living, and on whose humble testi- 
mony I rely even with more confidence than on the more im- 
possible authority of history, thus describes Washington. " I 
saw him take hold of a brass field-piece, as if it had been a 
stick. He looked like a fury ; he tore up the sheet lead from 
the touch-hole ; he placed one hand on the muzzle, the other 
on the breech ; he pulled with this, and pushed with that, and 
wheeled it round as if it had been nothing. It tore the ground 
like a barshare.* The powder-monkey rushed up with the 
fire, and then the cannon began to bark, I tell you. They 
fought and they fought, and the Indians began to holla, when 
the rest of the brass cannon made the bark of the trees fly, 
and the Indians came down. That place they call Rock 
Hill, and there they left five hundred men dead on the 
ground." 

* A Kind of plough. 



46 . LIFB OP WASHINeTOM. 

The army of Braddock suffered a total defeat. The survi- 
vors retreated across the Monongahela, where they rested, and 
the general breathed his last. His gallant behaviour during 
the trying situation in which he was placed, and his death, 
which in some measure paid the penalty of his fool-hardihood, 
have preserved to his memory some little respect, and for his 
fate perhaps more sympathy than it merited. He was one of 
those military men of little character and desperate fortune 
which mother countries are accustomed to send out for the 
purpose of foraging in the rich fields of their colonies. He 
was succeeded in his command by Colonel Dunbar, who or- 
dered all the stores, except such as were indispensably neces- 
sary, to be destroyed, and sought safety, with the remainder 
of his European troops, in the distant repose of the city of 
Philadelphia, where he placed the array in winter-quarters in 
the dog days, leaving Virginia to the protection of her gallant 
rangers. 

The conduct of the British troops, on this occasion was, 
though perhaps natural in the terrible and untried situation 
in which they were placed, such as to excite the contempt of 
Washington and his provincials, to whom the escape of the 
surviving regulars was entirely owing. It was he and they 
that exclusivelj' made head against the invisible enemy, and 
finally so checked his proceedings as to secure a quiet retreat 
to a place of security. But for them, in all probability, scarce 
a man would have escaped. The British officers behaved with 
great gallantry, and upwards of sixty of them were either 
killed or wounded; but the privates exhibited nothing but 
cowardice, confusion, and disobedience ; and it seems quite 
probable that "Washington here learned a secret which was of 
infinite service in his future career by teaching him that 
British grenadiers were not invincible. 

The provincial troops, on the contrary, according to the 
teaimony of Washington, '/ behaved like men," to uae bin ow n 



IIFE OF WASHINOTON. 47 

language. Out of three companies that were in the action 
but thirty survived. The regulars, on the contrary, " ran 
away like sheep before hounds," leaving every thing to the 
mercy of the enemy. " When we endeavoured to rally them," 
continues Washington, in his letter to the governor of Vir- 
ginia, "in hopes of retaining the ground we had lost, and 
what was left on it, it was with as little success as if we had 
attempted to have sopped the wild bears of the mountains, 
or the rivulets with our feet." 

The conduct of Washington on this trying occasion con- 
firmed him in the affections and confidence of Virginia, and 
gave occasion to more than one presage of his future emi- 
nence. Among the rest, the Kev. Mr. Davies, in a sermon 
preached soon after Braddock's defeat, taking occasion to al- 
lude to an event which was fraught with such disastrous con- 
sequences, uttered the following sentence, which long after- 
wards was considered prophetic — "I cannot but hope," he 
said, " that Providence has preserved this youth to be the 
saviour of his country." 

But such predictions rest on the experience of the past, not 
on an insight into the future. The inspiration which dictated 
the sentiment of Mr. Davies, was, without doubt, founded on 
the solid basis of an accurate knowledge of the virtues, ac- 
quirements, and character of Washington. These furnished 
the best auguries of the future, and bore a sure testimony 
that, should the period ever arrive when their exercise would 
become necessary to the salvation of his country, she would be 
saved by Washington. 

The Virginia Assembly being in session when the news of 
Braddock's defeat and death, and Dunbar's ignominious de- 
sertion, arrived, at once saw the dangers to which the pro- 
vince was now exposed. Sixteen companies were accord- 
ingly raised, the command of which was offered to Washing- 
ton, Accompanied })y the rare comf liment of pennimion to 



48 UVE uF WASHlNOXuX. 

name his field ofiitprs. Tins offer was chf^«rfuUy accepted, 
though it necessarily imposed on him a charge of the most 
critical nature. The whole frontier of Virginia, extending 
three hundred and sixty miles, noAv lay exposed to the incur- 
sions of hordes of savages, who^e amusement was midnight 
murders; whose fury si)artd neither age nor sex ; whose en- 
mity was insatiable ; whose revenge, inexpressibly terrible. 
The means jjostessed by the province were inadequate to the 
purposes of effectual proleclion; the British government had 
deserted them, or at least was ignorant of the desertion of 
Dunbar; the royal governor was inefficient, jealous, or indif- 
ferent, and the safety of \'irginia depended on herself alone. 
Her arms were courage and patriotism — her tutelary genius 
was Washington. 

The savage had already comuienced their bloody career, 
accompanied, and, if not instigated, at least not controlled by 
their allies ; and now was seen what has so often disgraced 
the Christian name in this New "World, the association of 
those whose religion is mercy and forgiveness, with those 
who never forgive. A scene ensued which, if I could prevail 
upon myself to enter on its teniblu details, would thrill the 
hearts of my young readers, and make them shiver as with an 
ague. Civilized warfare, in its worst aspect, is nothing com- 
pared with the strife of the wilderness with wild and savage 
warriors, painted like fiends, and yelliug like infuriated mad- 
men. This for ages was the destiny of your forefathers, my 
young readers, and never should you forget the sacred duty 
of atfectionate gratitude to their memory. They won for you 
a dear-bought prize, and left you a noble legacy, which you 
will one day learn to cherish as inestimable. 

Now came the time that tried men's souls and bodies too. 
The pagan redmen and their Christian allies scoured the whole 
frontier of Virginia, and the wretched inhabitants, scattered 
at far distances from each other, in scanty numbers that pre- 



LIFE OF WASHINQTON. 49 

luded effectual resistance, suffered all the horrors of savage, 
cruelty, instigated and abetted by the arts of civilized white 
men. Nothing was spared ; no age, no sex, no man, woman, 
or child, could hope for mercy, living or dead ; for the revenge 
of the red man is not satiated by murder; it outlives the 
death of its victim, and wreaks its last efforts on the inani- 
mate body. The smoke of burning cottages, and the shrieks 
of murdered victims, were seen and heard to arise from the 
depths of forests, and the repose of nature was disturbed 
by Indian yells and dying groans mingled in one horrible con- 
cert. Fifteen hundred savages, divided into separate parties, 
scoured the frontier, and, penetrating towards the more com- 
pact settlements, carried terror and ruin in their train. All 
who did not flee were murdered and scalped, and in a few 
months the frontier was a desert and a grave. 

In this cruel state of things, the hopes of Virginia rested on 
Washington and her own means of defence. Dunbar was at 
Philadelphia ; the governor was suspected of being jealous of 
the reputation of the rising hero, and of that acquired by the 
provincial troops, whose conduct at the fatal defeat of Brad- 
dock was contrasted with that of the boasted and boasting 
regulars ; and the province was left to her own limited re- 
sources. Fort Duquesne, the great head-quarters of the em- 
pire of the forest, was in the hands of the French ; the Indian 
tribes of the West were, without exception, under their in- 
fluence, and a frontier of three hundred and sixty miles was 
to be defended by seven hundred militia. But these were 
commanded by Washington. 

He was but twenty-two years of age when he accepted 
the arduous task of defending his country from Christian am- 
bition, savage fury, and remorseless revenge. Nothing but 
the purest motives of patriotism could have prompted him to 
undertake such a duty with the means at his command. The 





60 LIFE OF WASHINOTON. 

force raised for this purpose was utterly inadequate to protect 
the extensive line now exposed to the incursions of the savages 
and their instigators. To keep it together would be to leave 
a great portion of the State unprotected ; to divide it into 
Bmall parties would be to ensure their destruction. Scanty 
as this force was, it was deficient in supplies of every kind. 
If he fought the enemy in mass, he would certainly be beaten ; 
if he declined, he would as certainly be blamed. Every 
savage murder would recoil on his head, and every burning 
cottage light up a flame of indignation against him. Add to 
this, that the old royal governor was now ill-disposed to- 
wards him, not only on the score of his popularity, but his 
firm and manly remonstrances whenever he felt himself called 
upon to point out the existence of errors or neglect, and the 
means of remedying or avoiding them in future. 

It was in the midst of such diilicultiea, embarrassments, and 
mortifications, that Washington became schooled to that pa- 
tience, fortitude, and perseverance, which prepared him to en- 
counter the obstacles that everywhere presented themselves at 
the commencement, and through the whole progress of that 
great Revolution which he consummated by his talents and 
his patriotism. The royal governor, with the usual wisdom 
of such dignitaries as generally fall to the lot of colonies, had 
determined to act on the defensive. There was no hope of 
being able to conquer Fort Duquesne, the possession of which 
enabled the French to command the Ohio and influence the 
Indians. Washington therefore proceeded to establish, as far 
as practicable with his limited means, a chain of small forts 
along the frontier, in which he placed the principal part of his 
little army. With the remainder he traversed the frontier for 
the purpose of arresting and punishing the depredations of the 
savages, and this service he performed with a vigour and ce- 
lerity that will never be forgotten by Virginia. 
In the course of three years of incessant toil, exposure; pri- 



IIFB OP WARHTNemON. 51 

vationg, and dangers, he was witness to a succession of scenes, 
the particular relation of which would swell this volume be- 
yond its salutary limits, and at the same time serve to exem- 
plify the barbarities of savage warfare, as well as the uncon- 
querable firmness and vigour of this admirable young man. 
At an age v/hen too many of our youth are either engaged in 
frivolous amusements, or murdering their precious time in the 
indulgence of degrading passions that equally destroy the body 
and corrupt the mind, Washington was occupied niglit and 
day in the highest duties of a patriot, defending the unpro- 
tected, shielding the bare bosom of his country, and laying the 
foundation of a fame as lasting as it is pure and undeflled. It 
is suflBcient for my purpose to say, that all that imagination 
ever conceived, or experience realized of cruelty, suffering, 
and despair, was presented in the three years of savage war- 
fare which succeeded the defeat of Braddock. 

Traversing the wilderness where here and there a log -house, 
or a little cluster of log-houses, with a cultivated spot around 
them, had a few days before, perhaps, presented a smiling 
picture of the first efforts of man to cope with the wild luxuri- 
ance of nature, he would come to a pile of smoking ruins, over 
which the birds of prey were soaring, and around which the 
hungry wolves were yelping and howling. Their prey was 
the mangled, perhaps half-consumed, body of a helpless wo- 
man, an innocent girl, or a speechless infant that never drew 
nourishment but from the breast of its mother. Mangled with 
the knife or the tomahawk, or perforated with bullet-holes — 
their bodies scorched black with fire, and half devoured by 
beasts and birds of prey — their head stripped of its covering 
of hair by the crooked scalping-knife, they lay festering in the 
sun, sad monuments of savage revenge, or bloody ferocity. 

The history of no people that ever existed affords such a 
succession of dangers, hardships, and sufferings as were en- 
countered by the ancestors of my young readers. They came 



52 LIFE OP WASHINQTON, 

from the enjoyment and habits of civilized life to the untrack- 
ed wilderueaa, or, what is still worse, a wilderness tracked 
only by a race of wild red-men, the most impracticable in their 
barbarism, the moat unforgiving in their hate, of any recorded 
m tlie annals of the world. They endured all, suflered all, 
conquered all, and though they had sowed their seed in dan- 
gers and terrors besetting them on every side, it did not fall 
on rocks and barren places. It grew and nourished, and ex- 
tended into a rich and glorious harvest, which those who are 
now reaping should repay by venerating their virtues and imi- 
tating their example. 

Washington was not accustomed to dwell on this, one of the 
most painful and arduous periods of his life. But there is one 
tale of horror which he related on a particular occasion when 
questioned on the subject by a cherished friend, which will 
give some idea of scenes that were of almost daily occurrence 
during these gloomy and disastrous times. It has been pre. 
served, as nearly as jjossible in his own words, by one whose 
situation aftbrded him the best means of information. 

*' One day," said "Washington, " as we were ti'aversing a 
part of the frontier, we came upon a single log-house, stand- 
ing in the centre of a little clearing surrounded by woods on 
all sides. As wo approached we heard the report of a gun 
the usual signal of coming horrors. Our party crept cautiously 
through the underwood, until we approached near enough to 
see what we had already foreboded. A smoke was slowly mak- 
ing its way through the roof of the house, while at the same 
moment a party of Indians came forth laden with plunder, con- 
sisting of cloths, domestic utensils, household furniture, and 
dripping scalps. We fired, and killed all but one, who tried 
to get away, but was soon shot down. 

" Ou entering the hat we saw a sight that, though we were 
familiar with blood and massacre, struck us, at least myself, 
with feelings more mournful than I had ever experienced be- 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 53 

fore. On a bed in one cornei' of the room lay the body of a 
young woman swimming in blood, with a gash in her fore- 
head which almost separated the head into two parts. On her 
breast lay two little babes, ajoparently twins, less than a 
twelvemonth old, with their heads also cut open. Their in- 
nocent blood, which had once llowed in the same veins, now 
mingled in one current again. I was inured to scenes of 
bloodshed and misery, but this cut me to the soul, and never 
in my after-life did I raise my hand against a savage without 
calling to mind the mother with her littls twins, their heads 
cleft asunder. 

"On examining the tracks of the Indians to see what other 
murders they might have committed, we found a little boy, 
and a few steps beyond hia father, both scalped, and both stone 
dead. From the prints of the boy, it would seem he had been 
following the j)lough with his father, who being probably shot 
down, he had attempted to escape. But the poor boy was fol- 
lowed, overtaken, and murdered. The ruin was complete. 
Not one of the family had been spared. Such was the charac- 
ter of our miserable Avarfare. The wretched people on the 
frontier never went to rest without bidding each other fare- 
well ; for the chances were they might never wake again, or 
awake only to fuid their last sleep. On leaving one spot for 
the purpose of giving protection to another point of exposure, 
the scene was often such as I shall never forget. The women 
and children clung round our knees, beseeching us to stay and 
protect them, and crying out for God's sake not to leave them 
to be butchered by the savages. A hundred times I declare 
to Heaven, I would have laid down ray life with pleasure, 
even under the tomahawk and scalping-knife, could 1 
have ensured the safety of those suffering people by the sa- 
crifice." 

The difficulties of his situation were aggravated by mali- 
cious reports and insinuations, reflecting on his conduct and ca- 



54 XIVB OF WA8UIN«(T0N. 

pacity in those miserable times. He was assailed by secret 
enemies, who poisoned tlie mind of Governor Dinwiddie, and 
added to his unwillingness to give efficient aid to the conduct 
of this distressing war. There are extant letters of Washing- 
ton to that officer, vindicating his proceedings with a manly 
firmness, joined to a modesty highly becoming, and calling for 
the names of his secret accusers. In the midst of these insidi- 
ous attacks he however always had one great consolation in 
the consciousness, of performing his arduous duties to the extent 
of his power, and the increasing confidence of his countrymen. 
Those suiTerings which he could not prevent by his valour, he. 
predicted by his sagacity, and every failure of measures which he 
had endeavoured to prevent only served to prove his superiority 
over those whose orders he was obliged to obey. Thus he rose 
with the calamities of the times, and shone only the brighter 
for the darkness which surrounded him. 

To make matters still worse, and increase the miseries of 
Virginia, the British ministry sent out Lord Loudon, as gover- 
nor and commander-in-chief. Franklin has given his charac- 
ter, and pronounces it entirely made up of " indecision." " He 
was like St. George on the signs, always on horseback, but 
never rode on." It may be supposed, that under such a com- 
mander-in-chief matters could only become worse than they 
were before. Washington presented him with a statement, in 
which, with his usual directness and brevity, he pointed out 
the fatal conseiiuencesofthat system of defensive operations he 
had been compelled to adopt, detailed the destitute situation 
of his troops, urged an immediate attack on Fort Duquesne, 
the possession of which by the British could, he foresaw, alone 
secure the people of Virginia from the calamities they were 
now suffering. 

But the views of Lord Loudon were directed to another 
(quarter. He aspired to the conquest of Canada. His plan 
was to invade that province with the great body of his forces. 



I.IFE OF WASHINCtTOK. SS 

leaving only twelve hundred men to guard the whole southern 
frontier. Virginia was thus not only left to protect herself, 
but to assist the defence of the weaker colonies of the South. 
But the maxim and the practice of Washington was never to 
abandon his exertions in a good cause. He turned upon 
Lieutenant-Governor Dinwiddie and to the assembly of Vir- 
ginia, once more urging the importance of a proper organiza- 
tion of the militia and the raising of a regular force. But it 
was his fate in almost every period of his life to feel and to 
suffer from the consequences of legislative folly or inactivity. 
His remonstrances were not only disregarded, but the effective 
force was diminished instead of being increased. Almost any 
other man would have retired from such a service in disgust; 
but Washington, happily for his country, was one of those to 
whom the neglect and inefficiency of others were only stimu- 
latives to new exertions and new sacrifices. 

He urged aad re-urged the capture of Fort Duquesne, which 
he had learned was only garrisoned by three hundred men. 
But that system of defensive warfare, which he from the first 
strenuously opposed, and which fatal experience had proved 
to be altogether nugatory, y? 3 f still continued, and produced 
only a repetition of calamities. A second time the savages 
and their allies broke in upon the frontier, approaching still 
nearer to the older settlements, laying waste the country west 
of the Blue Kidge, and spreading destruction to life and pro- 
perty wherever they came. Another succession of unheard-of 
barbarities desolated the land, and the boasted protection of 
the mother country was exemplified in the triumphs of the 
tomahawk and scalping-knife, the murder of defenceless wo- 
men and children. Well might Colonel Barre exclaim, in a 
burst of spontaneous eloquence which has scarcely ever been 
equalled, when one of the ministers in a debate in the British 
Parliament asked, " Are not the Americans our children 



66 LIFE OP WASHINGTON. 

planted by our care, nouriBhed by our indulgence, and pro- 
tected by our arms r" 'NVell might he exclaim: — 

" Tlie}f planted by your care! No, sir; your oppressions 
planted them in America. They fled from your tyranny to an 
uncultivated and inhospitable land, where they were exposed 
to all the evils and sufferings which a wilderness alive with 
blood-thirsty savages could inflict. Yet, inspired by a true 
English love of liberty, they thought nothing of these, com- 
pared with those they had suflfered in their own country, and 
from you who ought to have been their protectors. 

" Thcij nourished by your indulgence ! No, sir ; they grew 
by your neglect. Your indulgence consisted in sending them 
hungry packs of your own creatures to spy out their liberties, 
that you might assail them by encroachments ; to misrepresent 
their actions, and to prey upon their substance. Yes, sir; 
you sent them men whose conduct has often caused the blood 
of these children of freedom to boil in their veins ; men, pro- 
moted to the highest seats of justice in that country, who, to 
my knowledge, had good reason to dread a court of justice at 
home. 

" Tlicy protected by your arms ! No, sir; they have nobly 
taken up arms in your cause, not their own. They are fight- 
ing the battles of your ambition, not their interests ; they have 
exerted a most heroic valour in the midst of their daily 
labours, for the defence of a country whose frontier was 
drenched in blood, while its interior contributed all its savings 
for your emolument." 

Soon after the arrival of Lord Loudon, Governor Dinwiddle 
departed from Virginia, leaving behind him but an indifferent 
reputation and a wretched province exposed to all the horrors 
of Indian warfare. The administration of the government 
devolved, for a short time, on Mr. Blair, who, during his brief 
authority, cordially co-operated with Washington in all his 



LIFK OF WASHINQTON. 57 

measures for the public security. Lord Loudon, after doing 
nothing, returned to England, and General Abercrombie suc- 
ceeded him as commander-in-chief of all the British forces in 
the colonies. The war in the south was committed to the 
charge of General Forbes, who, influenced by the strong 
solicitations of Washington, at length determined on an at- 
tack upon Fort Duquesne. Before, however, his preparations 
were completed, the savages and their allies a third tima 
poured in on the few remaining inhabitants of the frontier, 
and completed the sad history of these disastrous times by 
new conflagrations and massacres. Having done this, they 
departed to their wilderness again, unmolested, and laden 
with plunder and bloody trophies. 

At length, in the year of 1 758, General Forbes put his army 
in motion for the purpose of dislodging the French from their 
strong-hold at the confluence of the Alleghany and Mononga- 
hela. I havo now before me the plan of a line of march pro- 
posed by "Washington and adopted by the commanding general. 
It displays a perfect knowledge of the peculiarities of Indian 
warfare, and of the means by which they are best counteracted. 
Though distinguished by that rare modesty which was the 
characteristic of Waahiugton in every circumstance and situa- 
tion of life, there is in the language and sentiments a manly 
firmness, indicating not only a conviction of right, but a con- 
sciousness of superiority. His long experience in this species 
of warfare had given him a privilege to advise. 

But though the royal general accepted the plan, he did not 
follow the advice by which it was accompanied. Washington 
knew the importance, nay, the absolute necessity, of celerity. 
Arrangements had been made for forming a junction with the 
warriors of some Indian tribes, which were inclined to desert 
the French cause, and they were now waiting at Winchester 
for that purpose. He predicted, knowing the impatient dis- 
c 3 



58 LIFE OF WASHINflTON. 

position of these wild warriors of the woods, that they would 
become tired and go home ; and bo it happened. The season 
was half over before the army arrived at Winchester, previous 
to which, the savages had left that place, and crossed the 
Alleghanies. 

It was the latter end of June before General Forbes left 
Winchester, and Washington again had occasion to predict the 
failure of these dilatory operations. As if studious of delays, 
the commander, instead of marching by Braddock's road, as it 
was called, where a passage was already opened through the 
wilderness, determined to cut a new path from a place called 
Raystown, against the opinions and remonstrances of Wash- 
ington. He foresaw the consequences of such a tedious oper- 
ation, and anticipated the failure of the expedition. In one of 
his letters, he says, " If General Forbes persists at this late 
season, he will certainly ruin the attempt." 

On another occasion, alluding to these pernicious delays, he 
says, " If this conduct of our leaders does not originate in su- 
perior orders, it must proceed from weakness too gross to 
name. Nothing but a miracle can bring this campaign to a 
happy issue." He predicted that the army would be obliged 
to winter at Laurel Hill, without gathering any laurels, and 
that Fort Duquesne would not be captured till the next year, 
if it was ever captured. After cutting this new road through 
the wilderness, a work of vast labour and consequent delay, 
they reached Laurel Hill some time in the middle of Novem- 
ber, and a council of war was called to decide upon the pro- 
priety of going into winter- quarters here, or turning back upon 
Winchester. 

While actually thus employed, some prisoners, who had 
been accidentally captured, disclosed the almost defenceless 
state of Fort Duquesne. The design of the British government 
to attack Canada having become known to the French go- 
vernor, he had withdrawn all the force from the Ohio for his 



LIFE OF WASHINOTOK. 5§ 

defence at home, with the exception of about three hundred 
men. The Indians, who always join what they consider the 
strongest side in their co-operation with white men, deserted 
their French allies, and the British commander was assured 
that the fort was incapable of defence, and would surrender with- 
out firing a gun. Encouraged by the news, he changed his plan. 
Instead of wintering at Laurel Hill or returning to Winchester, 
he marched upon Fort Duquesne, which was evacuated by the 
garrison on his approach. After setting fire to the buildings, 
they embarked in their boats, sailed down the Ohio, and the 
French power ceased for ever in that part of the world. 

Thenceforward, until the capture of Quebec by General 
Wolfe, and the final extinction of the French empire in North 
America, the tide of war flowed in a direction towards the 
north. The plains of Abraham, the pass of Ticonderoga, the 
Lakes Champlain and George, and the frontier of New- York 
became the cceldama, the field of blood in the New World. 
Virginia ceased to bleed for a time; her harrassed citizens 
slept quietly in their beds ; her gallant rangers reposed from 
their toils ; and the Indian warwhoop was heard no more. 

Having nobly performed his duty to his country in her hour 
of peril, and seen those objects gained which he had sought 
through years of danger, suffering, and disappointment, 
Washington now resigned his commission, and sought repose 
in the shades of Mount Vernon. His arduous exertions and 
severe exposures in the service of his beloved countrymen 
had impaired in a considerable degree his naturally fine con- 
stitution, while his incessant public duties necessarily pre- 
vented a proper attention to his domestic affaire. These 
considerations determined his conduct, and at the close of the 
j'ear 1758, he bade adieu to his brothers in arms, who an- 
swered him by an affectionate address, and retired to the 
bosom of tranquillity, there to remain till called forth to the 
fulfilment of a destiny, as high as ever fell to the lot of man. 



60 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

' He was now only twenty-seven years of years, and yet had 
twice received the thanks of the representatives of the people 
of Virginia. His character was lirmly established for in- 
tegrity, tirraiiess, patriotism, and military skill. Everywhere 
he was looked up to as the first of the sons of Virginia ; as 
her sword and shield ; as one who in the hour of danger or 
difficulty might be relied on as a sage in council, a hero in 
battle. He had already earned the most precious of all sub- 
lunary rewards, the confidence and affections of his country- 
men. Such are the fruits of early exertion in a virtuous 
cause, and such the blessings of a well-spent youth. 



CHAPTER V. 

Marriage. Domestic Life and Habits of Washington. First Me<«ting with Mrs. 
Custis. Pictureof that Lady at the Time she captivated Washington. Old 
Jeremy. His Conversations. Sketch of Mount Vernon. Division of 
AVashington's Time. Hours of rising, retiring to rest, breakfasting, dining, 
tec. His temperance. Kindness to his relatives residing at Mount Vernon. 
Discipline of his Servants. Extracts from his old Almanac of 1762. His 
Custom of retiring to read. Anecdote of old Jeremy. Troubles with Eng- 
land. Is elected to the First Congress. 

1 AM now to present Washington to the contemplation of my 
young readers in a character not less worthy of their admira- 
tion, and in which tliey may all imitate him if they please. 
The ensuing fifteen years of his life were spent in rural occu- 
pations, rural exercises, and the performance of his duties as 
a husband, a master, and a farmer, occasionally interrupted 
by those of a justice of the peace and a member of the ^'ir- 
ginia Assembly. In the latter capacity he was a highly useful 
legislator, but too much a man of energy and action to be a 
great orator, although admirably clear in deportment. I have 
indeed observed that few of the celebrated orators of ancient 



JLIFE OP WASHINGTON. 61 

or modem times were ever much distinguished for military 
skill and prowess. Many who can tell how a thing should 
be done, are utterly incapable of doing it, and it has passed 
into a proverb, that those who are good at talking are seldom 
good at any thing else. 

Soon after his retirement from the service, he married Mrs. 
Martha Custis, a lady born in the same year with himself, of 
considerable personal attractions, and large fortune. Her 
maiden name was Dandridge, and both by birth and marriage 
she was connected with some of the most respectable families 
in Virginia. All her claims to distinction from family con- 
nections are now, however, merged in the one great name of 
Washington, and derive their purest lustre from an associa- 
tion with the Father of his Country. 

It has been related to me by one whose authority I cannot 
doubt, that the first meeting of Colonel Washington with his 
future wife was entirely accidental, and took place at the 
house of Mr. Chamberlayne, who resided on the Pamunkey. 
one of the branches of York River. Washington was on his 
way to Williamsburg, on somewhat pressing business, when 
he met Mr. Chamberlayne, who, according to the good old 
Virginia custom, which forbids a traveller to pass the door 
without doing homage at the fireside of hospitality, insisted 
on his stopping an hour or two at his mansion. Wash- 
ington complied unwittingly, for his business was urgent. 
But it is said that he was in no haste to depart, for he had 
met the lady of his fate in the person of Mrs. Martha Custis, 
of the White House, county of New Kent, in Virginia. 

I have now before me a copy of an original picture of this 
lady, taken about the time of which I am treating, when she 
captivated the affections of Washington. It represents a figure 
rather below the middle size, with hazel eyes, and hair of the 
same colour, finely rounded arms, a beautiful chest and taper 
waist, dressed in a blue silk robe of the fashion of the times, 



62 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

and altogether furnishing a very sufficient apology to a young 
gentleman of seven and twenty for delaying his journey, and 
perhaps forgetting his errand for a time. The sun went down 
and rose again before Washington departed for Williamsburg, 
leaving his heart behind him, and, perhaps, carrying another 
away in exchange. Having completed his business at the 
seat of government, he soon after visited the White House, 
and being accustomed, as my informant says, to energetic and 
persevering action, won the lady and carried her off from a 
crowd of rivals. 

The marriage took place in the winter of 1759, but at what 
precise date is not to be found in any record, nor is it, I be- 
lieve, within the recollection of any person living. I have in 
my possession a manuscript containing the particulars of va- 
rious conversations with old Jeremy, Washington's black ser- 
vant, who was with him at Braddock's defeat, and accompa- 
nied him on his wedding expedition to the White House. Old 
Jeremy is still living, while I am now writing, and in full pos- 
session of his faculties. His memory is most especially pre- 
served, and, as might be exiiected,he delights to talk of 3Iassa 
George. The whole series of conversations was taken down 
verbatim, in the peculiar phraseology of the old man, and it is 
quite impossible to read the record of this living chronicle of 
the early days of Washington, without receiving the full con- 
viction of its perfect truth. 

From this period Washington resided constantly at Mount 
Vernon, one of the most beautiful situations in the world. A 
wood-crowned bluff of considerable height projects out into 
the Potomac, here one of the most capacious and noble of 
rivers, affording an extensive view both above and below. 
A fine lawn slopes gracefully from the piazza in front of the 
house to the brow of the hill, where, high above the wave, you 
stand and view a wide prospect of great variety and interest. 
The house was at the time of his marriage of indifferent size 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 63 

and convenience, but was shortly improved into a capaciouB 
and imposing mansion. The place is worthy of him with 
whose memory it is inseparably associated, and long may it 
appertain to the family and name of Washington. 

He here put in practice that system of regularity and of tem- 
perance in every species of indulgence and of labour, which he 
persevered in, as far as was consistent with his circumstances 
and situation, during the remainder of his life. His moments 
were numbered, and divided, and devoted to his various objects 
and pursuits. His hours of rising and going to bed were the 
same throughout every season of the year. He always shaved, 
dressed himself, and answered his letters by candle-light in 
summer and winter ; and his time for retiring to rest was nine 
o'clock, whether he had company or not. He breakfasted at 
seven o'clock in summer, and eight in winter ; dined at tvvo, 
and drank his tea, of which he was very fond, early in the 
evening, never taking any supper. His breakfast always con- 
sisted of four small corn-cakes, split, buttered, and divided 
into quarters, with two small- sized cups of tea. At dinner 
he ate with a good appetite, but was not choice of his food ; 
drank small-beer at his meals, and two glasses of old Madeira 
after the cloth was removed. He scarcely ever exceeded that 
quantity. The kernels of two or three black-walnuts com- 
pleted the repast. He was very kind, aflPectionate, and atten- 
tive to his family, scrupulously observant of every thing relat- 
ing to the comfort, as well as the deportment and maimers, of 
the younger members. 

His habits of military command produced a similar system 
with regard to his servants, of whom he exacted prompt at- 
tention and obedience. These conditions complied with, and 
they were sure of never being subjected to caprice or passion. 
Neglect or ill-conduct was promptly noticed, for the eye of 
the master was everywhere, and nothing connected with the 
economy of his estate escaped him. He knew the value of 



64 LIFE OF VYASHINQTON. 

independence, and the mode by which it is obtained and pre- 
served. With him idleness was an object of contempt, and 
prodigality of aversion. He never murdered an hour in wilful 
indolence, or wasted a dollar in worthless enjoyment. He was 
as free from extravagance as from meanness or parsimony, and 
never in the whole course of his life did he turn his back on a 
friend, or trifle with a creditor. 

In an old Virginia almanack of 17()2, belonging to Washing- 
ton, and now before me, interleaved with blank sheets, are 
various memoranda relating to rural affairs, all in his own 
hand-writing, a few of which I shall extract, for the pur-, 
pose of showing my youthful readers that an attention to his 
private affairs was not considered beneath the dignity of the 
man destined to wield the fortunes of his country. 

Api'il 5. Sowed timothy-seed in the old apple-orchard be- 
low the hill. 

" 7. Sowed^ or rather sprinkled a little of ditto on 
the oats. 

" 26. Began to plant com at all my plantations. 
May 4. Finished planting corn at all my plantations. 

Thus, in the dignified simplicity of usefulness did this great 
and good man employ himself during the years which elapsed 
between the period of his retirement after the expulsioii of the 
French from the Ohio, until the commencement of the troubles 
which preceded the Revolution. His occupation was hus- 
bandry — the noblest of all others ; his principal amusement 
was hunting the deer, which at that time abounded in the 
forests of the Potomac. Here his skill in horsemanship ren, 
dered him conspicuous above all his competitors. He also 
read much, and his hour was early in the morning. 

His custom was to retire to a private room, where no one 
was permitted to interrupt him. Much curiosity- prevailed 
among the servants to know what he was about, and old 



TJPE OF WASHINGTON. 65 

Jeremy relates that, in order to gratify it, he one morning en- 
tered the room under pretence of bringing a pair of boots. 
Washington, who was reading, raised his eyes from the book, 
and getting quietly up — " I tell you," said Jex-emy, " I go out 
of de room faster dan I come in!" 

During this long interruption of his military life, Washing- 
ton was, either constantly or at short intervals, a member of 
the Virginia Assembly, where he resolutely and firmly opposed 
the claims of British supremacy that now became daily more 
importunate and tenacious. The British otlcers serving under 
Braddock, Loudon, Forbes, and others, having been frequently 
entertained in the houses of the planters of Virginia, with all 
the appurtenances of apparent wealth, had carried home to 
England reports of the luxuries enjoyed and dispensed by 
these prosperous colonists. The general opinion in that State 
has always been, that these disclosures of unsuspected wealth 
first gave the British ministry an idea of taxing the colonies. 
There is also a tradition that a certain wealthy Virginian, be- 
ing on a visit to England, engaged in play with the old Duke 
of Cumberland, the victor of CuUoden, and lost, 1 think 
twenty thousand pounds, which he paid promptly by a check 
on his banker. This fact becoming known, the ministry natur- 
ally concluded, that colonies affording such pigeons as this, 
might reasonably be called upon to pay for what they were 
pleased to call the protection of the mother country. The 
source from which this anecdote is derived entitles it to entire 
credit. 

But whatever may have been the immediate causes, the time 
was now approaching when the repose of Washington, and 
the liberties of his fellow-citizens, were to be assailed by the 
pretensions of power. The claim of the mother-country was 
a right to tax the colonies through the agency of parliament in 
which they were not represented ; the great principle asserted 
by the colonies was, that taxation and representation were in- 



66 LIFE OF WASHINOTOH. 

separable ; in other words, that no subjects could, under the 
constitution of England, be taxed except by their own con- 
sent, through their own representatives, elected by them- 
selves. The one stood upon its prerogative, the other on its 
rights enjoyed in common with all Englishmen. Perseverance 
on one hand, produced resistance ou the other ; and, as if 
nations could ever become rebels, the virtuous opposition of 
a whole people was stigmatized by the advocates of parlia- 
mentary supremacy as rebellion. At that period, colonies 
were considered to have no rights but such as were conceded 
to them at the pleasure of the mother-country, and might be 
reclaimed under almost any pretence whatever. More de- 
graded than even conquered provinces, they were treated nei- 
ther as friends or foes ; their industry was made tributary to 
the government at home, under pretence of paying for its pro- 
tection, which protection was but another name for oppression ; 
and their inhabitants insulted by arrogant assumptions of af- 
fected superiority, on the part of those who fattened on their 
spoils. Though the uniform practice of all modem govern- 
ments had sanctioned these exercises of maternal despotism, 
it was still an unnatural state of things, and the only cement 
of such an unequal union was power on one hand, weakness 
on the other. It might have been foreseen, for all the attributes 
of our nature point to such a result, that the descendants of 
Englishmen, who, a great portion of them, had sacrificed their 
birthright and their home to escape oppression, would submit 
to it abroad not a moment after they could hope to resist it 
with success. Accordingly the assertion of the claim to tax the 
United Colonies of North America, was the signal for a suc- 
cessful resistance, the example of which has extended, or will 
extend, through the whole of this great continent — perhaps 
through the whole world — and which has established the tem- 
ple of liberty on a basis which it is humbly hoped may never 
be overthrown. 



XIFE OF WASHIKfiTON. 67 

The principles of freedom which had been implanted in this 
country with the first seed that was sown, now strengthened 
and expanded under threats and coercion ; the storm that at 
first threatened from afar off, like a mere point in the horizon, 
now gathered, spread, and blackened into deeper hues, and 
the high-hearted, deep-reaching patriots of the west at once 
saw the certainty of war or submission. 

" We must fight, Mr. Speaker — I repeat we must fight," was 
the prediction of Patrick Henry, and all reflecting persons re- 
cognised its truth. A Congress met at Philadelphia to concen- 
trate and express the force and feelings of the colonies ; Wash- 
ington was elected a member, and breaking away at the call 
of his country from the happiness of rural life, and the delights 
of domestic associations, once more embarked on the waves 
that were finally to bear his country to the haven of a safe 
and honourable independence — himself to the highest pinnacle 
of glory. 



CHAPTER VI. 

Washington called from his Retirement to attend the first Congress at Philadel- 
phia. His Age and Appearance. His Strength and Activity. Anecdote of 
Mr. Peale. Portrait painted by him. Anecdote related by a Servant of 
Washington, Particular Description of his Person. Is chosen Commander- 
in-Chief. His Letters to Mrs. Washington, on accepting and departing to 
assume the Command. The Consequences to which he exposed himself in so 
doing. State of the Public Mind. Ideas of Europe, and especially English 
Superiority. Arrival and Reception at Boston. Situation of the Army. 

Ax the period when Washington was called from his dignified 
and happy repose at Mount Vernon, he was about forty-three 
years old, the very prime of manhood. Exercise, temperance, 
wholesome employment, and a well-regulated mind, had all 
combined to re-establish his health, which had been somewhat 



68 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

impaired by hard service in the wilderness, and to restore that 
vigour and activity for which in liis youth he had been so 
highly distinguished. It may not be uninteresting to my 
young readers to describe him as he is represented in a por- 
trait painted at Mount Vernon in 1772, by the elder Mr. 
Peale, a portrait of which is now before me. That worthy 
old gentleman used often in his latter days to relate that, 
while engaged in this work, he was one day amusing himself 
with the young men of the familj' in playing at quoits and 
other exercises, Aviien "Washington joined, and completely out- 
did tliem all. 

As nothing relating to the Father of his Country can be un- 
interesting to his cliildren, I will here give another anecdote 
illustrating his strength, in the words of one of his nearest 
connexions, who is still living. 

" "\Vc Avere sitting," said he, '' in the little parlour 
fronting the river, to the right as you enter the portico. — 
The general and several others were present — among them 
two young men remarkable for their strength, when a large 
back-log rolled from the chimney out on the hearth. The ge- 
neral took tlie tongs and very deliberately, without apparent 
effort, put it back in its place. A quarter of an hour after- 
wards he went out, and the ease with which he handled it be- 
came the subject of remark. The log was taken down, and 
not a man of us could lift, much less put it in its place again. 
Finally, one with the tongs, another with the shovel, we all 
set to, and succeeded in replacing it. The general, though re- 
markably strong in all his limbs, was particularly so in his 
hands and fingers." 

The portrait to which I refer, and which was taken shortly 
before Washington entered on his last and great career, repre- 
sents a man in the vigour of his prime, in the uniform of the 
provincial troops ; a cocked hat of the fashion of the time ; a 
blue coat, faced and lined with scarlet ; waistcoat and 



LIFE OF WASHINCtTON. (i'J 

l)reechea of the same colour. Tlie coat and waistcoat, in the 
left-hand pocket of which is seen a paper, endorsed " Order 
of march/' are both edged with silver lace, and buttons of 
white metal. A gorget, shaped like a crescent, and bearing 
the arms of England, is suspended from the neck by a blue 
riband, and an embroidered lilac-coloured crape sash thrown 
over the left slioulder. The right hand is partly thrust into 
the waistcoat, and covered with a thick buff buckskin glove, 
and the left arm is passed behind the back so as to sustain a 
fusee, the barrel of which projects above the shoulder. This 
was the very dress he wore on the fatal field of Rock Hill, 
where Braddock fell. 

The face is that of a fresh and somewhat florid man, with 
light-brown hair. The eye a deep clear blue, full of spirit 
and vivacity; the nose resembling that of his subsequent 
likenesses, but much more becoming; and the mouth indica- 
ting most emphatically that unconquerable firmness of pur- 
pose, that inspired perseverance, that cool yet ardent char- 
acter, which the history of his whole life exhibits. I should 
judge from this picture that Washington was naturally of a 
vivacious temperament, for his eye is full of fire, and its ex- 
pression rather gay than grave, and I shall, in the course of 
this woi'k, lay before my young readers some proofs in sup- 
part of my opinion. The incessant cares and labours he 
encountered soon after this period, and the weight of those 
momentous interests which so heavily lay on his mind, and 
would have weighe d almost any other to the earth, were 
amply suflicient to repress his natural vivacity. Hence, from 
the date of his accepting the command in the great crusade 
for the establishment of the rights of hia country, he was 
seldom known to be gay, scarcely ever laughed aloud, and 
his character was that of gravity, if not something more. 

Washington was upwards of six feet in height; robust, 
but of perfect symmetry in his proportions ; eminently cal- 



70 LIFE OF WASniVQTON. 

culated to sustain fatigue, yet without that heaviness which 
usually accompanies great muscular power, and abates active 
exertion. His movements were graceful ; his manner dis- 
played a grave self-possession, and was easy and affable. All 
those who ever associated with him have remarked that in- 
describable dignity which, though it created an affectionate 
confidence, at tlie same time repressed all freedoms, and for- 
bade the indulgence of the slightest indecorum in his presence. 
His most remarkable feature was his mouth, which was per- 
fectly unique. The lips firm and compressed. The under 
jaw seemed to grasp the upper with force, as if the muscles 
were in full action, even while he sat perfectly still and com- 
posed. Yet an air of benignity and repose always pervaded 
his face, and his smile displayed an extraordinary attraction. 
No man ever possessed in a higher degree the art, or rather 
the moral and physical qualifications, to ensure the respect 
and affection of all who came within the circle of his 
influence. 

Such was Washington when the suffrages of his country- 
men called him from his retirement, first to assist by his 
councils, and next to vindicate their rights in the strife of 
armi. While attending upon his duties as a member of the 
first Congress, he was, on the fourteenth of June, 1775, 
unanimously chosen commander-in-chief of the armies of the 
United Colonies, and all the forces now raised or to be raised 
by them. Some little effort was made in favour of General 
Ward of Massachusetts ; but, happily for the cause and the 
country, local feelings and personal predilections were nobly 
sacrificed on the altar of patriotism, and the destinies of 
liberty fell upon one fully adequate to their support. 

Washington accepted the dangerous pre-eminence offered 
him with that modest firmness which never deserted him. I 
have a letter before me announcing the event to Mrs. Wash- 
ington, and expressing his doubts whether he is qualified for 



LIFB OP \rA9HINQX0N. 71 

the task he had undertaken, with a simplicity that preclude* 
all idea of affectation, if such a weakness were compatible with 
his character. Another, written just before his departure for 
Boston, to assume a command which promised little but 
difficulty and disaster, if not disgrace and death, I shall now 
jay before my young readers. It at once displays his domestic 
feelings, his unaffected diffidence, his uniform and affecting 
reliance on the goodness of Providence. 

" Philadelphia. June 2M, 1775. 
" Mt Deabest, 
" As I am within a few minutes of leaving this city, I could 
not think of departing fi-om it without dropping you a line, 
especially as I do not know whether it will be in my power 
to write again until I get to the camp at Boston. I go fully 
trusting in that Providence which has been more bountiful to 
me than I deserve, and in full confidence of a happy meeting 
with you in the fall. I have not time to add more, as I am 
surrounded by company to take leave of me. I retain an 
unalterable affection for you, which neither time or distance 
can change. My best love to Jack, and Nelly, and regards 
to the rest of the family, concludes me with the utmost 
sincerity, 

" Your entire, 

" Geo. WASHiNaxox." 

By accepting the command of the army of the United Colo- 
nies, Washington placed his life and fortune on the issue of 
the struggle. He not only risked the perils of battle, which 
every brave man is willing to encounter in a just cause, but 
the imminent danger of perishing on the scaffold or under the 
gallows. As a leader in what was called a rebellion by the 
British government, the ruin of the cause of his country 
would, almost as a matter of course, have been followed 
either by a voluntary exile, or an ignominious death. Indeed, 



it LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

my young readers ought uever, while they live iu the enjoy- 
ment of the blessings of liberty, to forget those who won and 
transmitted them to posterit}-, fought, as was the reproachful 
phrase of tlieir haughty antagonists, " with halters round 
their necks," and at the risk of perishing, as the unsuccessful 
champions of liberty have always perished, with the stigma 
of treason on their names. Under all these circumstances, 
we have a right to presume, and such a conclusion accords 
with the whole teuour of his life, that, in accepting a station 
fraught with so many dangers and discouragements, "Wash- 
ington was actuated, not by the love of power, but solely by 
an attachment to his country and to the rights of his fellow- 
citizens. 

The triumph in the cause of freedom, achieved by the United 
States, as they were now soon to be denominated, has already 
attracted the admiration of nations. But thej' knew not half 
the difficulties the good people of the colonies had to encoun- 
ter. There was a moral intiuence which, of itself, was almost 
insurmountable. An influence which to this day festers in the 
veins of the free citizens of this independent confederation, 
independent iu every thing but mind. It was the intiuence o^ 
that long habit of inferiority which is ever the inglorious 
birthright of colonies. 

The idea of European superiority, and most especially of 
British valour, British wisdom, and, above all, British power, 
was an inheritance of our forefathers, and has descended to 
their children. In their ej'es^ England was invincible — she 
grasped the trident of the ocean in one hand, and iu the other 
the sceptre of the land. Ec^ually pre-eminent in arms, in 
science, and in literature, the idea of opposing her power, or 
resisting her pretensions, was almost equivalent to that of the 
war of the pigmies against the giants. It seemed not courage, 
but temerity ; not fortitude, but presumption ; not the calm 
deliberate energy of freemen, determined to assert their rights. 



LlffS OF WASHINGTON, 73 

but the frenzy of a slave, gnashing his teeth, and vainly at- 
tempting to break his fetters. It was a great effort to over- 
come these long prepossessions^ and it was reserved for the 
descendants of Englishmen to dissolve the charm of invinci- 
bility that had been cherished for ages in behalf of their 
forefathers. 

Besides this soul-subduing feeling of inferiority, which ge- 
nerated a thousand miserable fears, there were other real and 
substantial grounds for all but despair. The colonies had 
fluddenl}', by the violent j)roceedingH of the Britiflh ministry 
in relation to Boston, which had Ih'st dared to resist the pay- 
ment of the duty on tea, been precipitated on a crisis which 
left tliem no alternative but submission or resistance. They 
were obliged to give up the cause, or to enter at once on its 
assertion by arms. Without adequate means, or unity of ac- 
tion, or concert of system, they had followed tlie impulse of a 
generous patriotism, which calculates no deficiencies, and 
Hown to the relief of their brotliers of New-England, on 
whose heads the vengeance of England had first alighted. 
They were too wise to wait to see their neighbours fall before 
they came to the rescue, and too magnanimous to desert those 
who were suffering in the common cause. 

Washington was cheered on his way to Boston by the uni- 
versal voice of confidence in the new commander ; by a reso- 
lution of Congress pledging itself to stand by him with their 
lives and fortunes in defence of " American liberty ;" by a 
committee which met and escorted him to Boston : and by an 
address presented to him by the Massachusetts House of Re- 
presentatives, couched in the most respectful and affectionate 



On entering upon the duties of his command, he soon found 
that, however he might rely on the spirit and patriotism of 
the people, the army was in a most destitute state, and af- 

D 



74 LIFE OK WABHINQTOK. 

forded but small grounds for the hope of a succesBf'ul issue to 
ihe Htrugglo at hand, savn through a long series of trials and 
suffering. There was a general defect of organization, and an 
almost total absence of all the munitions of war. The arras 
woro defective, and the want of powder was a decisive ob- 
stacle to their use. The letters of Washington, from this time 
orward, furnish the best exposition of his situation, and the 
moat authentic materials for a history of the dilTiculties, de- 
lays, and mortilicatious he encountered, the heroism, patience, 
and perseverance with which he endured or surmounted them. 
To them, therefore, I shall principally resort in the narrative 
which follows. No one can read these letters without receiv- 
ing a conviction that, during the whole course of the contest 
for the liberties of the New World, Washington was the mas- 
ter-8])irit of the cause, and that but for his urgent solicitations 
to I'ongress ; his sagacious recommendations of the measures 
proper to be pursued; his unwearied perseverance in stem- 
ming the tide of ill-fortune, and providing against its effects ; 
his inflexible lirmness in bearing up against every exigency ; 
his courage, his patriotism, and his genius, all reinforced and 
sustained by the commanding influence of his character, the 
struggle for several years might, in all probability, have been 
lengthened many years more — if it had not been prematurely 
brought to an end by the utter defeat and subjection of the 
States, and the postponement, if not final extinction, of all 
hope of independence. If ever any man merited the greatest 
of all titles, that of the Deliverer of his Country, it was 
Washington, 



IJFE OK WASHINQTON. 75 



chaptp:r VII. 

Cansesof the Kevolulionnry War. Affliir of Lexington and C'onconl. DhKIc 
of DunkcrV Hill. Wasliington arrives at Boston ami assumes the Cominantl. 
State of the American Army, rrohablo' Causes of the Inactivity of General 
Howe. Attempt to ilish)d(,'0 tlic Americans from Dorchester Heights. Eva- 
cuation of Boston by the British. Washington ami his Army receive the 
Thanks of Congress. Ilia firm stand in behalf of the American Prisoners, nnd 
Threat of Retaliation. General Howe relaxes the system i)ursued by Go- 
vcrnor Gage. 

Before entering on a detail of the actions of Washington in tht; 
great war of the Uevolution, a brief sketch of the statt! of allUirsat 
that time will be tiseful, to enable my youthful readers to com- 
prehend what follows. This dispute between England and 
her colonies originated in the claim of the former to tax the 
latter without their consent. 'lht>y asserted tlio rights of 
Englishmen, as the descendants of Englishmen ; and as no na- 
tive of that country could be taxed without th(> consent of a 
parliament in wliich he was supposed to be re])repented, tliey 
insisted the same rule should be extended to them. They de- 
manded either the right of being represented in the parliament 
of England, or that of taxing themselves tlirough the medium 
of their own colonial assemblies. 

This right they always exercised, and as they had never on 
any occasion declined contributing the necessary means of de- 
fraying their own expenses, and defending tliemst?lv(>s against 
the Indians, and other enemies, there was no just pre- 
text for any innovation on this long -established practice. The 
government of l<lngland having discovered that the colonies 
were growing rich, began to think them worth protection 
now that they could afford to pay for protection. Under pre- 
tence of the burden of defending them against tho French and 
Indians in those wars wliich originated in the rivalry of 



(<! LIKK Olf WASHINOTON. 

European ambition, aiul iu wIulIi they had no concern what- 
ever, an act of parlianiout -was passed laying u duty on 
stamps. All legal papers were obliged to bear a stamp, for, 
which a certain sum was to be paid to certain commissioners, 
for the use of the British government; and, conseipiently, 
every species of business became subject to this imposition 
which was equally oppressive and embarrassing. 

It was not, however, the amount of the tax, nor the vexa- 
tious mode by which it was collected, that roused the resist- 
ance of the Anu>ricaus. They naw that this was the com- 
mencement of a great system of imposition, fovmded on the 
supremacy of a parliament in which they were not represented, 
and in the choice of whose members they had no voice what- 
ever. 'I'liey saw that this was tlie tlist attempt to feel the 
pulse of the inhabitants of the colonies, and that submission 
now would bo the signal for new exactions hereafter. Now 
therefore, was tlie time io resist, or never. They must strain 
at the gnat or prepare tliemselves to swallow tlie camel. 

Others have resisted actual oppressions; it was reserved to 
the Americans to wrestle for principles alone. They struggled 
against future rather than pre9e\»t evils; and, witli a wisdom, 
Krmness, and foresight to whioli there is no parallel example iu 
the history of the world, met on the very threshold the enemy, 
which, if they had once permitted to enter the house, would 
liave liuiilly turned them out of doors. Tlieir manly yet tem- 
perate remonstrances at length procured a repeal of the stamp 
act ; but the very abandonment of the practice was accom- 
panied by an assertion of the principle of parliamentary supre- 
nmcy, on wiiich it had been founded. The Americans con- 
tinued dissatisfied with a concession which, while it abated 
the grievance, reservi'd the right to renew it whenever it was 
thought proper. 

The frequent and expensive wars of England, which had 
been some time prosecuted upou the »ew principle of shifting' 



LIFE OF WASHIMTON. 77 

on posterity the burdens of their fathers, had entailed upon 
that country the modei-u blessing of a vast national debt- 
This carried with it the necessity of additional taxation to 
meet the interest ; and the British ministry began to cherish 
a design to make the colonies a party in contributing to the 
payment of debts which they had no agency in contracting. 
Not one of the wars of England, in which these debts were 
incurred, had originated in any desire to benefit the United 
Colonies. They were the consequences of European ambition 
and national rivalry. 

The repeal of the stamp act was followed at no great dis- 
tance of time by an attempt to collect a tax on tea, which 
constituted an item in the original budget of which the 
former was by far the most vexatious, and had never been 
repealed. Again was that spirit of liberty which our ances- 
tors brought with them to the Western wilderness, and be - 
queathed to their posterity, roused to action. Remonstrances, 
petitions, and appeals, the most eloquent, and unanswerable, 
couched in language the most respectful, were transmitted to 
the parliament, the people, and the king of England. All 
these addresiiies were written with a vigour, a temperate 
dignity, and a force of reasoning characteristic of an enlight- 
ened people determined to maintain their rights; a people 
whose ancestors had sought the untrodden wilds of a New 
World that they might escape the despotism of Church and 
State, and bequeathed to them an abhorrence of tyranny. That 
to the people of England, written by John Jay, is one of the 
finest productions of those times which awakened and gave 
new energies to the genius and virtue of our countrymen. It 
furnishes the heads of the principles asserted by our ances- 
tors. 

" Know then," it says, " that we consider ourselves, and do 
insist that we are and ought to be, as free as our fellow-sub- 



78 IIFK OF WASHINftTON. 

jects of Great Britain, and that no power on earth has a right 
to take our property from us without our consent. 

" That we claim all the benefits secured to the subject by 
the English Constitution, and particularly that inestimable 
one of trial by jury. That we hold it essential to English 
liberty, that no man be condemned unheard, or punished for 
supposed offences, without having an opportunity of making 
his defence. 

"That we think the Legislature of Great Britain is not 
authorized by the constitution to establish a religion fraught 
with sanguinary and impious tenets, or to erect an arbitrary 
form of government in any quarter of the globe. These 
rights, we, as well as you, deem sacred. And yet, sacred as 
they are, they have, with many others, been repeatedly and 
flagrantly violated. 

" Are the proprietors of the soil of Great Britain all lords 
of their own property? Can it be taken from them without 
their consent ? Will they yield to the arbitrary disposal of 
of any man or number of men whatever ? You know they 
will not. 

" Why, then, are the- proprietors of the soil of America less 
lords of their property than you are of yours? Or why 
should they submit to the disposal of your parliament, or any 
other parliament or council in the world, not of their elec- 
tion ? Can the intervention of the sea that divides us cause 
disparity in our rights ? Or can any reason be given why 
English subjects who live three thousand miles from the royal 
palace should enjoy less liberty than those who are three 
hundred miles distant from it ? Reason looks with indigna- 
tion on such chimerical distinctions^ and freemen can never 
perceive their propriety." 

The people of England responded to the appeal, but had 
too little influence to obtain justice for their brethren across 
the Atlantic ; the king permitted his ministers to follow out 



InrR OF WASHIN&T0N3 ^9 

Iheir own policy; and the parliament referred their com- 
plaints to what were aptly called " Committees of Oblivion" 
where they were never heard of more. 

A few voices were heard in the British senate pleading the 
cause of the Americans. But though among them were those 
of a Burke and a Pitt, they were as voices crying in the wil- 
derness, unheard except by stocks and stones, and animals 
without sympathy. Their appeals in behalf of the rights of 
the descendants of Englishmen fell dead to the ground, though 
they would seem to have been calculated to awaken the dead 
from their graves. The elder Pitt, who had in an hour of 
weakness buried the glory of an illustrious name in the ob- 
scurity of an empty title,* vindicated the rights of our fore- 
fathers in a manner which entitles him to the lasting grati- 
tude of their posterity. 

" For God's sake," said he on one occasion, when address- 
ng the House of Lords — "for God's sake then, my lords, let 
the way be instantly opened for reconciliation. I say in- 
stantly, or it will be too late. The Americans tell you — and 
remember it is the language of three millions of people — ^they 
tell you they will never submit to be taxed without their own 
consent. They insist on a repeal of your laws. They do not 
ask it as a favour ; they claim it as a right. They demand it. 
And I tell you the acts mxtst be repealed — they toill be re- 
pealed. You cannot enforce them. But the bare repeal will 
not satisfy this enlightened and spirited people. What I sa- 
tisfy them by cancelling a bit of paper — a piece of parchment ! 
No, my lords! you must go further; you must declare you 
have no right to tax them. Then they will confide in you. 

" There are, my lords, three millions of whigs in America. 

Three millions of whigs with arms in their hands, which every 

one knows how to use, are a formidable body. There are, I 

trust, twice as many whigs in England ; and I hope the whigs 

• He bwl been cretitecl Earl of Chatham, 



8(^ hire OP WASHlNftTON. 

in both countries will unite, and malce a common cause in de- 
fence of their common rights. They are united by the strong- 
est ties of sentiment and interest; and will, therefore, I hope> 
fly to support their brethren. In this most alarming and dis- 
tracted state of your affairs, though borne down by disease, I 
have crawled to this house, my lords, to give you my beat ad- 
vice, which is, to beseech his majesty that orders may be in- 
stantly despatched to General Gage to remove his troops from 
Boston. Their presence is a source of perpetual irritation and 
suspicion to those people. How can they trust you with the 
bayonet at their breasts ? 

" They have all the reason in the world to believe that you 
mean to deal them death or slavery. Let us then set about 
this business in earnest. There is no time to be lost. Every 
moment is big with danger. Even while I am speaking, the 
decisive blow may be struck, and millions involved in the 
consequences. The very first drop of blood that is shed will 
make a wound perhaps never to be healed — a wound of such 
uncommon malignity as will never be closed. It will mortify 
the whole body, and hasten, both in England and America, 
that dissolution to which all the nations of the earth are des- 
tined." 

But when were mother-countries ever just to their children ? 
The inflexible policy has ever been to make their industry tri- 
butary to their own luxury and ambition ; to make them the 
rich pastures for foraging their own greedy dependants; to 
insult and harass them with indignities and restraints of every 
kind, and finally to leave them no alternative but slavery or 
resistance unto death. The voice of wisdom, justice, and 
patriotism— the eloquence of inspiration and virtue combined, 
bursting as it were from the brink of the grave, was unheard. 
The knife was placed at the throat of America, and the pro- 
phecy of the great stateeanan was fulfilled. 

The immediate occasion which produced the iket act of re- 



LIFE OF WA8HIK0T0N. 81 

sistance on the part of the Americans was an attempt to in- 
troduce a cargo of tea into Boston, on which a duty of three- 
pence a pound was laid by act of parliament. Trifling as it 
was, it involved the whole principle of the right of taxation 
without representation, and the patriotic inhabitants of Bos- 
ton, who had before signalized themselves on various occa- 
sions by their stem resistance to every encroachment on their 
rights, proceeded to settle the question in a summary manner. 
A party disguised as Indians entered the vessel, and threw 
the whole cargo overboard. Such was the admirable secrecy 
with which this was meditated, proposed, and performed, that 
though every effort was made by the royal governor and his 
instruments to discover the actors, not one betrayed himself, 
or was betrayed by the others. To this day the names of a 
large portion of these daring patriots remain either question- 
able or unknown. 

When this pioceeding became known in England, it called 
down the vengeance of the ministry and its subservient parlia- 
ment on the devoted city. An act was passed shutting up the 
port of Boston, and of course destroying its trade entirely. 
Reinforcements were sent to Governor Gage, and every thing 
indicated a settled determination on the part of the British 
ministry to enforce the system of taxation. These acts roused 
the indignation, while they awakened the fears, of the Ameri- 
cans. The rest of the colonies considered that Boston was 
suffering in the common cause, and promptly resolved to make 
common cause with her. The people of New-England espe- 
cially took the deepest interest in the fate of their capital, and 
a generous excitement pervaded the whole country. A gene- 
ral congress of all the colonies was convened, whose first act 
was a Declaration of Eights, in which they asserted the an- 
cient privileges of Englishmen, professed their loyalty to the 
king, and their determination " to risk every thing short of 
p 5 



82 I.IFK OF WASH INS TON. 

their eternal salvation to defend and transmit those rights en- 
tire to tlieir innocent and beloved posterity." The people 
seconded their representatives, and agreed to an abstinence 
from all British manufactures, which then constituted nearly 
all their luxuries and most of their comforts. 

In this state of affairs a spark fell among the combustibles 
and lighted the flames of a seven-years war. Congress had 
ordered a deposit of stores and ammunition at Concord, a vil- 
lage about thirteen miles from Boston. Governor Gage 
despatched a force of eight hundred grenadiers and light in- 
fantry for the purpose of destroying them. Information hav- 
ing been sent by Doctor Warren, one of the early martjrrs in 
the cause of freedom, the inhabitants of Concord and its 
vicinity prepared for the reception of the enemy. 

Arriving at Lexington, the British met a party of about 
twenty militia and thirty or forty unarmed spectators. Major 
Pitcairu, who commanded the former, rode up to them, and 
cried out, in a furious tone, " Disperse, you rebels — lay down 
your arms and disperse." This insulting command not being 
promptly obeyed, he discharged his pistol, and ordered his 
men to tire. He was immediately obeyed, and tlie inhabitants 
fled, while the British continued their tire. This at length 
provoked resistance ; the inhabitants returned the fire, and 
several were killed on both sides. 

The British continued to advance on Concord. The news 
of the aifair at Lexington had spread like fire on a prairie 
through the neighbourhood, and roused a spirit of resistance. 
Armed men seemed to spring out of the earth ; the farmers 
left tlieir ploughs sticking in the furrows, and the horses in 
their gears, and seizing their muskets, rushed to the defence of 
their country. Intimidated, however, by the number of the 
enemy, they took a position behind a bridge, and waited for 
reinforcements, while the British proceeded to destroy the 
stores and ammunition. 



rifK OF WA8HIN«fXON. 83 

Having done this, they hiarched upon the bridge to disperse 
the militia. They again gave the first fire, which was returned 
with such effect that they were compelled to retreat. They 
were pursued by the Americans ; who, now roused to ven- 
geance, no longer stood on the defensive. As they fled to- 
wards Boston, it was like running the gauntlet. The woods, 
the windows, and the stone fences were alive with irritated 
freemen, and every shot made its mark on the enemy. The ball 
rolled, and gathered as it rolled ; and before the enemy returned 
to Boston, two hundred and seventy-three, in killed, wounded 
and prisoners, had paid the forfeit of shedding the first blood 
in the cause of oppression. 

The inhabitants of Lexington, Concord, and the neighbour- 
ing country, proved themselves on this occasion worthy 
descendants of the pious and gallant pilgrims, who had sacri- 
ficed all for liberty in the Old World, and braved, in the same 
cause, the dangers, hardships, and privations of the New. Of 
the company of volunteer militia belonging to Lexington, 
seven were killed and ten wounded. It seems to have been a 
family of brothers, for among them were nine of the name of 
Smith, twelve of Harrington, and thirteen, one for each of the 
states, of Munroe. 

The name of every man belonging to the little band which 
furnished the first martyrs to liberty in this western world, 
should be recorded and remembered. The anniversary of the 
battle of Lexington deserves to be kept, and has lately been 
commemorated in a manner equally honourable to the living 
and the dead ; and long may it be before the children or the 
men of my country become indifferent to the heroism and sa- 
crifices of their humble ancestors. 

On this occasion there occurred instances of devoted and 
persevering courage which may, and ought to be, placed side 
by side with any that adorn the history of Greece and Rome. 
The following will serve as one among many examples. It is 



84 LIIPR OB* vri sarNOTON. 

that of Jonas Parker. '' He had been heard to say that, be 
the consequences what they might, and let others do as they 
pleased, he would never run from the enemy. He was aa 
good as his word — better. Having loaded his musket, he 
placed his hat, containing his ammunition, on the ground be- 
trvveen his feet, in readiness for a second charge. At the 
second fire he was wounded, and sunk on his knees ; and in 
this condition discharged his gun. While loading it again 
upon his knees, and striving in the agonies of death to redeem 
his pledge, he was transfixed by a bayonet, and thus died on 
the spot where he stood and fell."* ^yhile my youthful 
readers glow with affecting admiration over such examples of 
courage and patriotism in the lowly village train, let them 
receive them as lessons of what they themselves will owe to 
their beneficent country, should it ever again require such 
Bacrifices. 

I have dwelt tlie more particularly on this affair because of 
the momentous consequences which followed. Trifling as it 
appears in itself, it was of greater magnitude in its results 
than many battles and wars in which empires were laid 
waste, and millions perished by the sword. It was the first 
link in a chain of circumahmces that drew after it the fate of 
the New, perhaps of the Old World. It was the first sen- 
tence of a chapter which records the downfall of oppression, 
and the commencement of a new era in the history of man- 
kind. The course of human affairs ; the great change which 
is now dailjr operating on the despotism of power, and the 
rights of nations ; the revolution of opinions, of governments, 
and of things, all derived a beginning from the fields of Lex- 
ington and Concord. There was shed the blood of the first 
martyrs to liberty, and from thence flhe dates her new-bom 
existence. 

• I quote from the fine address of Mr. Edward Ererett in commemoration of 
this battle. 



tiPfl OP WASfllNCHON'. 95 

The famoas battle of Bunker Hill followed at no great dis- 
tance, and formed the second act of the great drama. A se- 
cond time the kindred blood of the two people who had once 
been friends and brothers, flowed in the same strife of princi- 
ple on the one hand, power on the other ; there was the gal- 
lantry of the assailant met by more than ei^ual firmness of re- 
eistauce ; and there upwards of thirteen hundred of the royaj 
army paid a second forfeit to their contempt of those whom 
they denominated rebels to their king, because they refused 
to be bond-slaves to his ministers. The invaders here learned 
another lesson, which taught them that those who are anima- 
ted by a love of liberty are never to be despised. 

The battle of Bunker Hill, by which name it was first 
known, and will be longest remembered, is equally memora- 
ble for the gallantry displayed on both sides, as for its im- 
pressive influence on the events which followed. It taught 
the enemy caution, and inspired the Americans with confi- 
dence. The place is not strong by nature, nor had the militia, 
who took possession, time to throw up any other defences ex- 
cept a ditch of moderate depth and dimensions and a paltry 
breastwork. They had neither cannon nor bayonets, and de- 
pended on their skill as marksmen, their courage as the cham- 
pions of a good cause. 

They had taken possession of the hill by night, and as soon 
as the light of the dawn enabled Governor Gage to see that 
they were there, a cannonade from his ships of war was di- 
rected to dislodge them : but they stood their ground, and 
continued their work. Three thousand men, with a train of 
artillery, under Howe and Pigot, were then landed near 
Charlestown, which, in order as it would seem to exasperate 
the Americans to a more determined resistance, they set fire 
to, and laid in ashes. They then formed, and advanced to- 
wards the hill, while the American and British armies^ and 
the inhabitants of Boston, were watching the result in breath- 



86 liiVB er WASHiNevoN. 

less expectation. Here was to be the first trial whether the 
posterity of Englishmen had degenerated in the New World, 
and the event was to decide whether they were worthy the 
liberty they were now about to assert. 

On the brow of the hill stood the Americans in their little 
intrenchnient, watching with eyes that never winked, and 
hearts that never quailed, the approach of that enemy whom 
they were brought up to believe invincible. Their supply of 
ammunition being exceedingly scarce, they were directed to 
reserve their Are till the last moment. The brave " Old Put- 
nam," as ho is called with affectionate license by a grateful 
peoi)le, ordered them not to throw away a single shot, nor to 
touch a trigger till they could see " the whites of their eyes." 

The gallant British soldiers, for gallant they were, came 
steadily on, silent as the grave so many of them were soon to 
occupy, and were waited for by a foe equally silent. Not a 
word wag spoken within the American line of defence; every 
man Avas marking out, with unerring aim, the victim who, 
instead of imagining he was advancing to his fate, dreamed 
that he should meet no resistance. But from this dream he 
was awakened by the messenger of death. Soon as the 
whites of tlieir eyes became visible a thousand triggers snap- 
ped, and a thousand muskets at one single discharge, that 
made but one report, arrested the career of the whole' body, a 
considerable portion of it for ever. The British halted for a 
moment, keeping up an irregular lire, and receiving others 
more deadly and unerring. They fell like armies smitten by 
the angel of death ; but tliose who escaped stood their ground 
manfully, maintaining the ancient renown of their country 
even in a bad cause. But the deadly tire was continued so 
rapidly, and with such horrible effects, that tlie commands of 
the officers were no longer heard or obeyed. They broke in 
confusion, and precipitated themselves down the hill. Again 
they were rallied ; again they were met by the same deadly 



IiIFK OF WA»HIN«TON. 8T 

and determined fire, and again they were broken, and re- 
treated down the hill. Fresh troops were sent to their assist- 
ance by those who were watching the conflict ; and once 
more, with a perseverance and intrepidity, the result equally 
perhaps of an arrogant presumption of their own superiority, 
and a contempt for their enemy — once more they advanced 
with all the courage of desperation. But by this time the 
occupants of thia immortal little breastwork had expended all 
their ammunition, with the exception of a few rounds, and 
they retreated in as good order as could be expected from ir- 
regular troops, after firing their last cartridge, and dealing a 
last blow with the butt-ends of their muskets. 

The enemy at length gained the victory, but at a price 
which perhaps led him to calculate the coat of a contest that 
had thus commenced. Instead of songs of triumpli there 
was weeping and gnashing of teeth for breathless friends and 
comrades, or living sufferers, some without limbs, others 
pierced through the body, others bloodless as shivering ghosts. 
It was a sorrowful day for England, for she had lost many 
brave soldiers, many gallant officers, and gained no honour. 
The wages of so much slaughter were but a ditch and breast- 
work on the summit of a little hill. For this, thirteen hun- 
dred and upwards of the enemy paid the price of their breath 
or their blood. The loss of the Americans was serious, yet 
by no means to be compared to that of the British. Among 
the killed was Dr. Joseph Warren, a distinguished volunteer, 
whose death was deeply lamented ; and who, had Providence 
spared him to the cause of his country, would, without doubt, 
have become one of tlie first among those that survived him. 
But his death was glorious, and his name will ever be (quoted 
as that of one of the earliest as well as most illustrious mar- 
tyrs to the liberties of his native land. 

These two affairs of Lexington and Bunker Hill appertain 
exclusively to New England. It was on New England 



88 LIFE OP WASHINGTON. 

ground, and by the men of New England these battles were 
fought, for as yet the more distant colonies had not time to 
come to the aid of their brothers of the East. They consti- 
tute bright pages in the history of those states, most especially 
of Massachusetts, fortunate in being the first to be attacked, 
the first to resist, and the first to seal the charter of liberty 
with her blood. Truth demands this testimony, and the ho- 
nour should neither be envied nor withheld. 

Though the mother country had actually commenced hos- 
tilities, and the colonies resisted, still there are many clear 
indications in the history of those times that, until a consider- 
able period after the American Congress had recommended 
and authorized strong measures of defence, few, if any, che- 
rished the idea that the British ministers would persevere in 
enforcing the claims of England to absolute supremacy after 
they found that the colonies were determined to resist at all 
hazards. 

On the other hand, the British ministry laboured under a 
similar delusion. They imagined that the colonies had neither 
the spirit to resist, nor the i^ower to do it effectually. They 
calculated securely on the long habits of deference which had 
grown up among them, their attachment to the country of 
their descent, and their apprehensions of its vengeance. They 
were taught to believe — for it is the destinj' of power to be 
always deceived — that the mere show of a resolution to en- 
force it would produce a prompt obedience. They deceived 
themselves, and suffered the consequences of the deception. 
They plunged boldly into the stream, and their pride prohi- 
bited returning Avhen they discovered the force of the current. 
Had they foreseen the difficulty of the task, it is highly proba- 
ble they would have at least temporized, if not abandoned it 
altogether. But even this would not have answered their 
purpose. It was the destiny of the New AVorld to become 
independent of the Old, and nothing could have finally pre- 



IIPE or WASHIN^TOK. 89" 

vented its accomplisliment. On the 12th of June, 1775, 
Governor Gage issued a proclamation declaring the colony of 
Massachusetts in a state of rebellion ; threatening the severest 
punishment to the insurgents ; and proffering pardon on sub- 
mission to all, with the honourable exception of Samnel Adams 
and John Hancock. 

When Washington arrived at the lines of the American! 
army before Boston, in the beginning of July, 1775, he found 
the situation of affairs by no means promising, and now com- 
menced that correspondence with the president of Congress, 
the celebrated John Hancock, from which I shall draw my 
principal materials. It corroborates the view above taken, 
when I observe that in all his early letters he calls the British 
the " ministerial army," thus avoiding a direct collision with 
the authority of the king. 

His first acts were to visit the several posts and reconnoitre 
those of the enemy. His second, to ascertain the situation 
of his army, and the means of offensive or defensive operations 
in his power. The results of the latter inquiry were suffi- 
ciently discouraging. 

The deficiencies consisted in a want of engineers ; a want 
of arms ; of ammunition ; of tents ; of regular supplies of 
provisions ; of a military chest, that is to say, of money ; andj 
indeed, of almost every necessary constituent of a military 
force and military action, except " a great number of able- 
Dodied men, zealous in the cause, and of unquestionable 
courage." He earnestly recommends to Congress a prompt 
attention to these objects, and laments the distance of that, 
body, which impedes a direct and frequent communication. 

" My best abilities," he writes, " are at all times devoted to 
the service of my country. But I feel the weighty importance- 
and variety of my present duties too sensibly not to wish a. 
xaoxe frequent communication with Congress. I fear it may 
often happen, in the course of our present operations, that I 



90 IIFK or WASHINeTON. 

shall need that assistance and direction from them which time 
and distance will not allow me to receive." 

Thus in a situation where ambitious and aspiring men grasp 
at discretionary power, and sigh to be free from the restraints 
of legislative supervision, in order that they may follow the 
dictates of their own will, or perhaps usurp the liberties of the 
state, did Washington regret the want of a superintending au- 
thority. Throughout the whole of the struggle for liberty he 
never, on any occasion, attempted to interfere with the civil 
power, or to transcend the functions delegated to him by Con- 
gress. He considered himself only as the servant of the state 
and sought no other distinction, although continually placed 
in circumstances that might have justified the exercise of al- 
most unlimited discretion. 

But at the same time he neither cringed nor flattered. He 
never failed to give his own opinions frankly ; to point out to 
Congress what he considered proper or necessary to the com- 
fort of his soldiers or the success of their operations, and to 
blame, with temperate manliness, its neglect or inertness. 
His intimations are succeeded by remonstrances, and his re- 
monstrances are repeated with a firm, yet respectful im- 
portunity, until the evil is remedied, or all hope of remedy 
abandoned. 

After the battle of Bunker Hill, no action of any conse- 
quence took place at Boston. Washington, though exceed- 
ingly anxious to storm the British lines, was deterred by a 
want of the necessary means, and the decision of a council of 
oflScers, disapproving such an attempt. Great difiiculties took 
place in the mean time in consequence of the expiration of 
the term of enlistment of a large portion of the troops ; the 
different organization of those of the different states, which 
precluded uniformity ; together with the want of habits of 
subordination in both officers and soldiers^ who, while strug- 



LIFE OF WASHINaXON. 91 

gling for civil liberty, did not suflaciently comprehend the ne- 
cessity of submitting to the severity of a military code. 

These difficulties -were increased by local jealousies among 
the troops of the different colonies, which, while they pro- 
duced, perhaps, a salutary emulation on the one hand, occa- 
sioned on the other feelings directly opposed to a harmo- 
nious co-operation. To remedy this, in some degree, Wash- 
ington proposed to Congress that the whole army should be 
dressed in hunting-shirts, which, while they furnished a cheap 
uniform, would do away with those petty dissensions which 
have often no better foundation than a different coloured coat 
or feather. The material for this arrangement could not, how- 
ever, be procured, and the recommendation was, conse- 
quently, not carried into effect. 

On the other hand, the British, who occupied Boston and its 
immediate defences, remained comparatively quiet within 
their intrenchments. It is not possible that General Howe, 
who commanded under Governor Gage, and afterwards suc- 
ceeded him, was ignorant of the total want of a supply of 
ammunition under which the Americans laboured for a consi- 
derable time. Indeed, "Washington explicitly states, in one 
of his letters to Congress, this deficiency was known in the 
enemy's camp, and expresses his surprise at the inactivity of 
Howe. I am strongly inclined to believe it was in a great 
measure owing to his expectation of a speedy adjustment of 
the quarrel between the mother-country and her colonies, 
and a desire not to increase the difficulty of such an arrange- 
ment by additional bloodshed. 

The only effort made by General Howe against the Ameri- 
cans who were investing Boston; was to dislodge them from 
Dorchester Heights, which had been taken possession of by 
General Thomas. A party of three thousand British under 
Lord Percy were sent on this errand, but a furious etorm 
arrested their vessels in the passage to the mouth of the river 



92 LIFE OP WASHINftTON. 

up which they were to proceed to the point of action ; and 
before tliey could repair damages, the Americans had so 
strengthened their ^vork^ that the attempt to carry them by 
storm was abandoned. 

The possession of these heights rendered the situation of the 
enemy not a little critical, and produced a determination on 
the part of General Howe to evacuate Boston without any 
further attempt at defence. This resolution was carried into 
effect on the 17th of March, 1776, and Boston at length 
reposed in the arms, and under the protection, of its natural 
defenders. This event was hailed with triumph and rejoicing 
throughout the whole extent of the united colonies, where the 
cause of Boston was identified with their best principles and 
most ardent affections. A medal was ordered to be struck by 
Congress to commemorate the event, and a vote of thanks 
passed, in which the conduct of Washington and his army is 
justly characterized as equally " wise and spirited." It was 
indeed a rational source of exultation, to drive an invading 
army from its intrenchments with a force comparatively raw, 
undisciplined, and ill-supplied with every thing. The act was 
glorious, and the consequences in the highest degree impor- 
tant. It freed a patriotic and devoted city ; it gave additional 
confidence to the friends of liberty, and held forth bright omens 
of future successes, should the struggle continue. 

The conduct of Washington was universally approved by 
he friends of the good cause. His temperate ardour, exhibited 
on all occasions in seeking the delivery of the city ; the firm- 
ness yet kind forbearance with which he had dealt with the 
feelings of the troops under his command, who had suffered 
much, and were unused to the hardships and discipline of war ; 
and, in short, his whole deportment had been such as to justify 
his past reputation, and lay the solid, unshaken basis of that 
confidence in his vigour, firmness and integrity which sup- 
ported him in all the future trials of bis country. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 93 

tt \va8 here too that he took a stand from whioli he never 
swerved^ until the British were taught by his firmness, and 
perseverance, to abandon a system of treating their prisoners 
equally cruel and insulting. They either did, or affected to 
look on the noble struggle for liberty, which has since been 
consecrated by the admiration and imitation of many nations, 
as nothing more than a petulent and ungrateful opposition to 
long-established authority. While a large portion of the peo- 
ple of England sympathized in the wrongs of the colonies, the 
ministry and the soldiers considered them as rebellious sub- 
jects, in arms against their king without cause, and without 
justice. With this impression they treated their prisoners 
with an insulting and reckless barbarity, which under no cir- 
cumstances could be justified among civilized nation-j. Thoy 
pretended to consider them as without the pale of honourable 
warfare, and abused them as they would the worst of crimi- 
nal?. They placed them in irons, and threatened them with 
the gallows. 

Washington wrote to Governor Gage, remonstrating against 
this barbarity, A haughty and supercilious answer was re- 
turned, in which it was intimated that an escape from the 
halter was all the prisoners could expect ; and for this cle- 
mency they should be grateful, instead of complaining of their 
benefactors. To this Washington replied, " If your officers, 
our prisoners, receive from me treatment different from that 
I wished to show them, they and you will remember the oc- 
casion." Soon after, the command devolved on General Howe, 
who, either from a conviction that his severity would be re- 
taliated, or from a better motive, for some time afterwards 
adopted a milder course towards his prisoners. 



94 ^IVK OF WASHINGTON. 



CHAPTER VTII. 

Ch»r«o(M of the War. Tho British evaouato Boston, .iml Wnshlngfon proc*oiU 
to Ncw-Votk. St«tPof Aft^iirs thcro. Deolaration of ludopciulcnce. Arrival 
of Loril Howe at Saudy Uook. Sends a Flajj with rroposals for Conollia 
tion. Laiuls on Lons lilaiid. Battle, and Defeat of tlie Americans. Fine 
Uetroat of Wivshlngton. Tliis ill Suooots does not impare the Public Confi- 
dence iu him. Abortive Meeting of a Committet? of Congress with Lorxl 
Howis .and Rejection of his OlVers of Pardon. 

Thk "vvar whioli Washington was now conducting was not 
one of brilliant victories, rousing the unthinking admiration of 
mankind by the mass of human misery they create, but of dif- 
ficulties and disasters, calling for the exercise of all the high- 
est iiualitios of mind and genius to surmount. These alone 
enabled him to support the labours and vanquish the obstacles 
that, wherever he went, bristled thick in his way, and, by the 
blessing of Heaven, to eeoun? a lasting and glorious triumph 
to the cause of liberty. 

The moment he percei\ed by the motions of General Howe 
that the British army was preparing to leave Boston ^^'ash^ng- 
tou connnonced bivakiug up his camp at Cambridge, and was 
soon on his way to New-York, whither, ho believed, the ene- 
my would direct his conrae ere long, although, on leaving 
Nantasket Roads, he had sailed eastward. He passed through 
Providence, Norwich, and New-London, and everywhere di- 
rected his attention to the ardous duties devolved upon him as 
commander-in-chief. He provided for the embarkation of his 
army at New-London ; sent a reinforcement to the American 
troops in Canada ; procured a small supply of cannon frimi Ad- 
miral Hopkins at New-London; and, in short, devoted his 
time and energies to preparing for the worst that might happen. 
Everjnw^here he exerted the influence of his personal character* 



LirS OF WASHINOTOK. 95 

and everywhere with the moflt beneflciul consequences. It was 
tliis influence, nrininK from a ijgrfect cunlldence in his talents, 
integrity, and iiatriotiani, tliiit more than Dnce provftd tliebul- 
wark and safeguard of his country. 

On hlH arrival at New-York early in the month of April, 
1770, ho received a letter from the President of CongrcBS con- 
veying the thanks of that body to liiniHclf andliiH army for their 
conduct at the siege of Uoston. Jle replied AviMi his usual 
modest manliness—" I beg you," he says, to assure them, that 
if. will ever be my highest junbition to api)rove myself a faith- 
ful S(!rvant of tiio iiubiic ; and that to be in any degree in- 
atrumental in procuring for my American bn-thren a restitu- 
tion of their just rights and [irivi leges will constitute my chief 
happiness." Speaking of having communicated the thanks of 
C/OngreHS to the arniy, he ndds, " 'I'hey were indeed at first a 
baud of undisciplined husbandmen, but it is, undi-r (.od, to their 
bravery and attention to their duty that 1 am indebted for that 
success which has procured mo the only reward 1 wish to re- 
ceive, the adection and esteem of my countrymen." 

Washington found Now- York but ill-prei)ared for defence 
in the event of (ileneral Howe's directing his operations to that 
(luarter. The state troops were deficient in arms, and many 
of the citizens e(|ually d(>ricient in jjatriotism. Owing to va- 
rious causes, the tory infiuence was strong in that c[uarter. A 
considerable number of British troops were always stationed 
m New- York ; the ofTlcers had many of them intermarriedwith 
the most inlluential families of the province ; and u number of 
the proprietors of the largest estates were devoted loyalists. 
Add to this, the Asia, man-of-war, lay opposite the city for 
some time, having it entirely at her mc^rcy, and the comman- 
der threatening destruction in case of any overt act of oppo- 
Hition to the mothei'-country. 

These and other causes damped the efforts of the whigB,and 
delayed decisive measureB of defence. Bat the body of the 



96 . I'lI'E OF WASHINaiON. 

people was aonnd. The "Suns ol" Liberty," as they styltd 
themselves, who had represeBted the popular feeling, had 
finally the ascendency over their disaffected opponents, and 
aided by a body of troops from Connecticut, under General Lee» 
maintained possession of tlie city iu deliance of the threats 
of the commander of the Asia. That officer declared 
that if any troops came into the city, he would set 
it on lire; and Lee replied — "That if he set fire to a single 
house in consequence of his coming, he would chain a Imndred 
tories together by the neck, and make that house their funeral 
pile." 

The possession of Kow-York, the key to the Hudson, which 
forms the great geographical line of separation between New- 
Kngland and the South, and is, moreover, the most direct 
route to and from Canada, was deemed an object of the first 
importance. Accordingly, AVashingtou used his utmost efforts 
to place it in the best possible state of defence. At his recom- 
mendation. Congress authorised the construction of such a 
mimber of rafts calculated to act as a sort of tire-ships, armed 
boats, row-galleys, and lioatiug-batteries as were deemed ne- 
cessary to the command of the port and river. They likewise 
vo*^ed the employment of thirteen tliousand militia, to reinforce 
the main army under ^Vasllington. 

Hitherto the Americans had been simply struggling for their 
rights as subjects of England ; but the time had now arrived 
when the contest was to assume an entirely different charac- 
ter. An event was at hand which was to change the relations 
between the mother-country and her colonies, and separate 
their future destinies for ever. The assertion of rights had 
produced the desire of independence. To the more sagacious 
of that great and illustrious body of men which composed the 
iirst Congress, it gradually became evident that, though tl« 
ancient relations of the two countries might perhaps be re- 
vived for a time, there never could in future subsist that 



LIKR OK WA8HIN0T0N. 97 

cordiality which was indiBpensible to their mutual interests 
and happiness. Blood had been shed ; bitter invectives 
and biting insults had been exchanged; injuries never to be 
forgotten, and outrages not to bo forgiven, had been suffered ; 
and the filial piety of the children had been turned into hatred 
of the tyranny of the mother. 

They saw, too, that were England to relinquish her claim 
to parliamentary supremacy for the present, there would be 
no security for the future. The colonies would be left as be- 
fore, e(iually exposed to a revival and enforcement of the ob- 
noxious claim of taxation without representation. Union 
could no longer subsist compatibly with the mutual happiness 
of the two parties, and a separation became the only security 
against eternal family-strife. The lofty pride of patriotism, 
which disdains to wear the yoke even of those we have been 
accustomsd to reverence, when it presses too heavily, came in 
aid of these considerations, and enforced the only just and ra- 
tional conclusion. 

Actuated by these higli motives, on the 7th of June, I'HO, 
Richard Henry Lee consecrated his name to the everlasting 
gratitude of his country, by a motion in the Congress of the 
United Colonies, tliat a declaration of independence should 
be adopted. Three days after the question was taken up, and 
post|)oned to the first of July; but in the mean time, Thomas 
Jefferson of Virginia, John Adams of Massachusetts, Benjamin 
Franklin, of Pennsylvania, Roger Sherman of Connecticut, and 
Robert R. Livingston, of New York, were appointed a com- 
mittee to draft the proposed declaration. The day being 
come, the subject was taken up, the declaration read, and the 
most important question that ever did, or ever can arise in 
this country settled for ever, by tlie adoption of that famouii 
Declaration of Independence which has become the political 

F. 



98 tlFK OP WASHINGTON. 

♦ decalogue of all who love and strive for the maintenance or 
recovery of their rights. 

Time has disclosed tliat this noble paper was written by 
Thomas Jefferson, of Virginia, who, had he done notliing else 
fOr Iiis fame, and conferred no other obligation on his country, 
would deserve to be remembered in all future time, and vene- 
rated by all posterity. It was a noble sight to see this body 
of illustrious patriots listening to the reading of a declaration 
of injuries, endiug with an eternal abjuration of tho authority 
which inflicted them; to a proposition to divorce one world 
from another ; to one of the most able and eloquent exposi- 
tions of the rights of nature and nations that ever flowed 
from the pen of man. It was a sight still more solemn and af- 
fecting to see them, with steady liand and unshaken jjurpose, 
one after another signing their names to a paper which might 
have been equally their death-warrant as their patent of im- 
mortality, and solemnly pledging themselves to an act by 
which each one placed in the deepest jeopardy " his life, his 
fortune, and his sacred honour," for had they failed of success 
each one would have died the death of a traitor. Nor is it 
among the least of the attributes of sublimity b}' which this 
scene is surrounded, that, of the committee which thus cut 
asunder for ever the ties which had for ages cemented two 
countries, of which the past history of the one is but the 
shadow of the future glories of the other, one was bred a 
shoemaker, another a printer. It is thus my young readers 
may learn that no station in life, however high, confers a mo- 
nopoly of iethPT talents or virtue ; and that, on the other 
hand, no situation, however humble, can effectually repress 
the energies of their heaven-inspired possessors. Neither 
rank, nor birth, nor wealth, can give dignity to weakness or 
vice; nor can any depression of fortune strip genius and vir- 
tue united, of their claim to direct, under Providence, the des- 
tinies of mankind. 



LIFE OF WASHINSTON. 99 

On the eighth of July following, the declaration was read 
at the State-house in Philadelphia, and received with accal- 
mations. It was also read to each of the brigades of those 
troops which now assumed the proud title of the army of the 
United States, who received it with equal enthusiasm. Hence- 
forward they were to fight under the banner, not of England, 
but of independence ; not of the red cross, but of the stripes 
and stars. They were now emphatically the soldiers of free- 
dom, and their courage increased with the consciousness of 
their new dignity. Now it was that every one became sen- 
sible that he was contending for the noblest of prizes ; and 
now it was that the souls of all true lovers of liberty were 
put to the test. Many, who had hitherto gone hand in hand 
in the assertion of the principle of taxation and representa- 
tion, shrunk from the idea of an assertion of entire inde- 
pendence on the mother country. They were either too 
much attached to " home," as England was usually called, or 
they feared the consequences of the long struggle that seemed 
now inevitable. They believed that the British ministry 
might have been wrought upon by the colonies to relinquish 
their system of taxation, but they despaired of their ever con- 
senting to acknowledge the independence of the States. 

The first years of the new-born child of liberty were those 
of danger and suffering. Her cradle was assailed by the ser- 
pent, but she proved the sister of Hercules, and slew him at 
last. She was nurtured in bloody strife and cruel vicissitudes, 
but she grew only the wiser and stronger for the buffeting of 
the waves and the violence of the storm. Like the oak in the 
whirlwind, she became only the more deeply rooted in the 
soil of freedom from the energy with which she withstood its 
ashings. 

Four days after the declaration of independence was read 
to the troops, the fleet of Lord Howe, bringing a force of up- 
wards of twenty-five thousand men, entered the Narrows, be- 
'L.ofC. 



100 LIfB oir WAsUINaxON. 

tween Long and Staten Islands, and anchored opposite. This 
was an army of veterans, commanded by officers inured to ser- 
vice, and supplied with every requsite for prompt and decisive 
action. To oppose them the Americans mustered, rank and 
file, about seventeen thousand, most of them of little experi- 
ence, commanded by officers eciually inexperienced, and de- 
ficient in arms, as well as every other necessary of war. But 
they were animated by a just sense of their rights, and an in* 
flexible resolution to maintain them. 

The first act of Lord Howe was directed towards a recon- 
ciliation between the contending parties. He sent a flag of 
truce ashore with circular letters to some of the old royal 
governors, enclosing a declaration announcing his authority to 
grant pardons "to all who would return to their allegiance in 
proper time." These were transmitted to Congress by 
Washington, and directed to be published for the information 
of the people. His lordship at or near the same time sent a 
letter, directed to George Washington, Esquire, affecting thus 
to deny his claim to the title of commander-in-chief of the 
armies of the United States. Washington declined receiving 
it, saying that it was only in that character he could have 
intercourse with Lord Howe. Congress very properly ap- 
proved this dignified proceeding. 

Soon after this Colonel Patterson was deputed by Lord 
Howe to confer with the American general on the subject of 
the settlement of all differences, but without success, " I 
find," said Washington, " you are only empowered to grant 
pardons; we have committed no offence, we need no pardon." 
Colonel Patterson returned with this answer, and both parties 
prepared for active determined war. 

The twenty-second day of August, in the second month of 
our independence, the enemy landed on Long Island, with a 
design to approach New- York in that quarter. Washington 
had the wisdom to know that the fears of inexperience almost 



LIFE OF WASUINGtrON. 101 

always overshoot the mark ; and that men are most apprehen- 
sive of those dangers of which they have least knowledge. 
He knew that the only way to make soldiers out of raw re- 
cruits was to accustom them to facing the enemy. The in- 
experienced soldier goes into action expecting certain death, 
and a few escapes cause him to imagine himself little less than 
invulnerable. Waiting for the enemy never increases the cour- 
age of an army, and it is better to be sometimes beaten than 
to be always running away. 

Influenced by these considerations perhaps, and certainly by 
a desire to save New-York, as he had regained Boston, 
Washington distributed his force to such points as were most 
accessible to the enemy, and most easily defended. A portion 
was stationed on Long Island, to make a stand in the event 
of General Howe landing in that tjuarter. The remainder, 
with the exception of a part of the militia of New-York, 
which lay at New-Rochelle, were disposed at different points 
of York Island, in anticipation that the enemy might approach 
by the way of Kiugsbridge. 

In this state of things every appearance indicated that a 
battle was to be fought ere long, and that its issue would, in 
all probability, decide the fate of the most important position 
in the United States. Washington prepared for the crisis with 
courage and sagacity. Far from sanguine, yet he did not des- 
pair of success, though every way inferior to the British. 
Speaking of his soldiers, he says, " The superiority of the 
enemy and the expected attack does not seem to have de- 
pressed their spirits. These considerations lead me to think 
that, though the appeal may not terminate so happily as I 
could wish, yet that the enemy will not suceeed in their views 
without considerable loss. Any advantage they may gain I 
trust will cost them dear." 

Besides performing the duties of a careful and skilful soldier, 
he used every effort to animate and inspire those under his 



102 LIFE OF WASHINQTON. 

command. He appealed to their courage and their patriotism ; 
to their sense of the wrongs of their country ; to their recollec- 
tions of the past, and their hopes of the future. In the general 
orders addressed to them on the arrival of Lord Howe, he 
says : — " The time is now near at hand which must determine 
whether Americans are to be freemen or slaves ; whether they 
are to have any property they can call their own ; whether 
their houses and farms are to be pillaged and destroyed, and 
themselves consigned to a state of wretchedness from which 
no human efforts will deliver them. The fate of unborn mil- 
lions will now depend, under God, on the courage and conduct 
of this army. Our cruel and unrelenting enemy leaves us only 
the choice of a brave resistance or the most abject submission. 
We have therefore to resolve to conquer or to die. Our own' 
our country's honour, call upon us for vigorous exertion, and 
if we now shamefully fail we shall become infamous to the 
whole world. Let us tlien rely on the goodness of our cause, 
and the aid of the Supreme Being, in whose hands is victory 
to animate and encourage us to noble actions. The eyes of 
all our country are now upon us, and we shall have their bless- 
ings and praised if happily we become the instruments of 
saving them from the tyranny meditated against them. Let 
us therefore animate and encourage each other, and show the 
whole world that a freeman contending for liberty on his own 
ground is superior to any slavish mercenary on earth." 

Again, as the hour approached, he once more endeavoured to 
infuse into his armj' a portion of his own energy and enthusiasm, 
'* The enemy's whole force is now arrived, so that an attack 
must and will soon be made. The general therefore again repeats 
his earnest request that every officer and soldier will have 
his arms and ammunition in good order ; keep within liis 
quarter and encampments as far as possible ; be ready for ac- 
tion at a moment's call ; and [when called, remember that 
liberty, property, life, and honour, are all at stake ; that upon 



LIFE OP WASHINaiON. 103 

their courage and conduct rest the hopes of their bleeding 
country; that their wives, children, and parents expect safety 
from them only, and that we have every reason to believe that 
Heaven will crown with success so just a cause." 

At length, ou the 22nd of August, 1776, the greater portion 
of the British army, under the direction of Sir Henry Clinton, 
landed on Long Island, and disposed itself in a line extending 
from the Narrows to the village of Flatlands. The troops 
under General Sullivan, on the island, were now reinforced by 
six regiments, under Gieneral Putnam, who was directed to take 
command at Brooklyn, and guard all the approaches by every 
means in his power. Tiie two armies were now divided by the 
range of hills called Brooklyn Ileiglits, and within three or four 
miles of eacii other. The British superior in numbers, equip- 
ment, and discipline, and confident of success; the soldiers of 
freedom fighting under every disadvantage except that of a 
good cause. 

Under cover of the darkness Sir Henry Clinton advanced 
with the van of his army to seize on the passes of the heights, 
and, favoured by the obscurity of the niglit, fell in with, and 
completely surprised and captured the American force which 
was to have guarded the approach. This incident was de- 
cisive, in all probability, of the action which followed. Hear- 
ing that the pass was entirely without defence, it was imme- 
diately taken possession of, and opened to the whole division 
a passage to the country between the heights and tiie East 
lliver. In the meantime General Grant, with another body of 
tiie British, advanced by a different road, skirmishing with 
the outposts of the Americans. This induced General Put- 
nam to send reinforcements to that quarter ; Lord Stirling led 
two regiments to meet the enemy towards the Narrows; 
General Sullivan conducted a strong detachment towards 
Flatbush, while a third occupied a position between that and 
the village of Bedford. 



J04 LIFE OF WASHINGTON, 

It was now break of day, and the action commenced witli 
a brisk cannonade on both sides, between the troops under 
Grant and Stirling. In another direction De Heisterand Sul- 
livan were engafred, and to increase the perplexity of the 
Americans, the British fleet began a tremendous fire on the bat- 
tery at Red Hook. This was followed, within an hour or 
two, by the approach of Sir Henry Clinton on the left of the 
Americans, and by a firing in the direction of Bedford, which, 
by indicating the advance of the enemy in that quarter, alarmed 
the Americans with the idea of being entirely surrounded. 
Thus circumstanced, great confusion began to prevail among 
them ; and after standing their ground as long as could be ex- 
pected under such circumstances, they broke in all directions, 
some seeking a retreat in the woods, and others under cover 
of the works erected on Brooklyn Heights. In this action the 
Americans lost nearly five hundred in killed and wounded 
and upwards of one thousand prisoners, among whom were 
three general officers. It was a severe lesson, and taught 
them that the price of liberty, as well as every other great 
blessing, is in proportion to its value. 

The situation of the republican army was now such as to 
call for the most prompt and decisive measures. On one hand 
they were shut in by a broad, deep, and rapid stream, on tlie 
other by a victorious army, waiting only for the dawn of 
morning to attack them in their weak defences. "Washington, 
who had passed over to Long Island during the battle, called 
a council of war, in which it was resolved to attempt a re- 
treat, before the wind j)ermittcd the British fleet to enter the 
East River, and thus render it all but impossible. 

The evening came, and the night set in with a strong wind, 
which madv'^rt impracticable to cross in the boats provided for 
that purpose, "^and the delay of a few hours would bring da>- 
Jight and destruction. They felt as if standing on the brink 
of fate, ready to fall at every moment. Their enemies were so 



LIFE OP WASHINGTON. 105 

near that they could hear them at work with their pickaxes 
and shovels just without the lines, and distinguish the word of 
command given by the officers in the loud tones of a trinraphant 
enemy. At length the wind changed to a gentle breeze from 
the south-west accompanied by a thick fog, which added deeply 
to the obscurity of tlie night. The army, like speechless 
shadows, entered tlie boats in death-like silence, one by one 
and in such perfect order, that the whole, together with the 
greater part of the heavy cannon, all the field-pieces, provi- 
sions, horses, waggons, and ammunition, were in perfect safety 
before the British discovered that the American lines had been 
evacuated. 

The Americans were not yet landed at New York, when 
the fog which so providentally favoured their departure clear- 
ing away, discovered tlie British taking possession of the spot 
they had abandoned buthalf an hour before. Such was the narrow 
escape they had ; for if the enemy had again attacked them in 
tlieir present decreased numbers, and under all the disadvan- 
tages of the previous defeat, it is extremely probable that a 
blow might have been given that would have taken years, per- 
haps ages, to recover. 

The result of this affair did not impare the confidence either 
of the troops or the nation in their general. In tliis, as on 
every occasion of his life, his fame depended not on victory or 
defeat. His countrymen estimated him by the just standard 
of his indefatigable exertions, his unquestioned integrity, his 
acknowledged talents, and his long-tried patriotism, not by his 
successes ; and not even ill-fortune could injure his reputation. 
This was always justly ascribed to a deficiency in the means 
of success, and not in the leader. Such is the inestimable 
value of long-cherished character, and such its vast influence 
over the feelings and opinions of mankind. The success or 
failure of every man's fortune is decisively swayed by the geij- 
£ 5 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

eral estimation of his fellow-beings, and he stands or falls by 
that alone. The most despotic tyrant is dependant, more or 
less, on public opinion. 

The conduct of Lord Howe after this victory seems to con- 
iirm tlie opinion I have before stated, that his inactivity was 
the result of policy. He followed it up, not by pursuing his 
advantage, but by opening a negociation for peace. General 
Sullivan, who had been made prisoner at the battle of Long 
Island, was sent on his parole to Philadelphia with a message 
desiring a conference on the part of the royalist chief with some 
of the members of Congress, as he could not treat with it as a 
body. After some hesitation this proposal was acceded to, 
and Franklin, Adams, and Rutledge deputed to receive the 
communication alluded to in the message of General Sullivan. 
"Without entering on the particulars of the conference, it will 
be sufficient to say that it proved entirely abortive. The re- 
publicans refused to be pardoned, and the royalist general hav- 
ing nothing else to ofiFer, expressed his regrets, and ended the 
discussion. 



CHAPTER IX. 

Gloomy State of Affairs. Conduct of Washington. Operations on York 
Island, and in Westchester County. Capture of Fort Washington, and Re- 
treat of the Americans into New-Jersey. Ill treatment of the American Pri- 
soners. Barbarities of the Hessians. Congress not to be blamed for depend- 
ing at first on the Militia. Caution, firmness, and perseverance of Washing- 
ton. Retreats to Trenton. Proclamation of Amnesty by Lord Howe. 
Battle of Trenton. Critical Situation of Washington. Brilliant Affair at 
Princeton, and its Consequences. The Armies retire to Winter-quarters. 

Thk cause of freedom was shrouded in darkness and gloom 
after the defeat of its supporters on Long Island. The militia 
were discouraged, and began to be impatient to return to 



LIB-E.OF WASHINGTON. 107 

their homes. Every appearance now indicated either the 
speedy subjugation of America, or a long, lingering, and dis- 
astrous struggle, of doubtful issue. The royal array had taken 
possession of New- York soon after the battle, and a great fire 
had laid a large portion of the city in ruins. The army of 
Washington was decreasing in numbers and spirit every day. 
The system of colonial government had been entirely broken 
up, and none other established in its place. The new states 
were like children suddenly invested with the responsibilities 
of self-government, without the experience requisite for the 
purpose ; and the internal affairs of the different communities 
were directed in a great measure by Committees of Safety, 
the limits of whose powers were scarcely defined, and whose 
authority the people were under no legal obligation to obey. 
In almost any other country anarchy would have been the re- 
sult of this condition of things ; but the virtue, intelligence, 
and patriotism of the people saved the state, and the love of 
liberty supplied the place of an established government. 

Unawed by these difficulties, and supported by Heaven and 
his own unconquerable zeal in the cause of freedom, Wash- 
ington met the crisis as he had always met, and continued to 
meet, disaster and difficulties. He rose with the occasion 
which demanded his exertions, and was never so great as 
when he stood surrounded by ruin. Finding it hopeless to 
attempt the protection of a city, a considerable number of 
whose most wealthy inhabitants were disaffected to the cause, 
with an army so entirely inferior in numbers, discipline, and 
e(iuipments of all kinds, Washington evacuated New- York, 
and took his station on the strong grounds about Kingsbridge, 
Avliich he fortified at all points, so far as his limited time and 
means would permit. 

In order to surround him in this position. General Howe, 
leaving a portion of his army in New- York, proceeded by 
water to Throg's Neck, where he lauded with the principal 



108 LIFE OF WASHINQTON. 

part of his forces. Unable to oppose thi^ project, Washington 
had in the mean time withdrawn his troops from York Island, 
leaving a strong garrison at the principal defence, called after 
his name, for the purpose of occupying the attention of the 
enemy, and impeding his future operations. The royalist 
general followed the army of the Americans, and a trilling af- 
fair took place at White Plains. But the cautious skill of 
Washington baflled every attempt to bring on a general ac- 
tion, and early in November Lord Howe broke up his posts in 
this quarter and turned suddenly towards York Island again. 
Fort AVashington was immediately invested at four different 
points, and being nothing more than an embankment of earth, 
was surrendered after a sharp but short resistance. The pri- 
soners taken here amounted to three thousand. 

Thus the republican army was daily diminishing, while that 
of the royalists had been increased by a reinforcement of live 
thousand Hessians and Waldeckers, hired by the British 
ministry to assist in subduing the posterity of Britons. Wash- 
ington passed his army over into New-Jersey, leaving the 
royalists entire masters in New-York. Terror and dismay 
overspread the whole land. The tories everj' day grew more 
bold and insolent ; the whigs began to despair of their cause ; 
the neutrals turned partisans against their country, and the 
British general became arrogant with success. 

His conduct towards the prisoners taken on Long Island 
and at Fort Washington was still more unfeeling and insult- 
ing than that of Cieneral Gage at Boston. Colonel Kawlings 
and some other wounded officers captured in Fort Washington 
were paraded through the streets of New- York on a cart, 
amid the jeering of the royalists, and set down at a deserted 
building of a character it would be indecent to name. The 
allowance to the prisoners was scanty and of inferior (juality. 
They were confined during the winter in churches and sugar- 
houses, where great numbers perished miserably by cold, uu- 



LIFE OP WASHINGTON. 109 

wholesome food, and all the indignities which pride, arro- 
gance, and unfeeling avarice could heap on them. No means 
of cleanliness were allowed them ; none were within the reach 
of their own resources, and they died in the midst of filth, the 
victims of oppression. 

In after times these receptacles were exchanged for hospital 
and prison ships, anchored at the Wallabout in the East River. 
These were slaughter houses, where a large portion of the 
captives were carried only to die. Confined between decks, 
in the filthy caverns of these old " floating hells," as they 
were aptly called, as close as they could lay, and destitute of 
the comforts of life or the consolations of sympathy; exposed 
to insult and ribaldry ; themselves, their country, and their 
cause denounced by every epithet that could add the bitterness 
of passion to the agonies of despair, they suffered until death, 
instead of coming as the king of terrors, approached as a 
smiling deliverer. 

Complaints were answered by curses, and groans by sneers, 
laughter, and sometimes blows. In the hot weather they 
were roasted, as in an oven, in the holds of the vessels, whose 
uncaulked decks let in the rain upon their uncovered bodies . 
in the winter they could only keep themselves warm by twist- 
ing their emaciated limbs together. Petty and unfeeling ty- 
rants were placed over them, as if to mock their miseries and 
answer their complaints by stripes and curses. Deprived thus 
of air, of pure water, and of wholesome food ; destitute of 
the friends which misery so often procures even among ene- 
mies ; agonizing under the present, and hopeless of the future, 
thousands of patriotic spirits, that deserved a better fate, 
died and were buried, and forgotten by their country, which 
at this moment cannot tell their nam&s. Some perished of the 
scurvy ; many of putrid fevers engendered in these dens of 
misery ; some died of despair, and other raving mad. 

These examples of suffering humanity on one hand, and ar- 



110 LIKK OK WAHHINQTON. 

roguut, uufeeling cruelty ou the other, are recorded not for tlie 
purpose of awakoniup the slumbering passion of rovt-nge, or 
perpetuating national autipatliies. I have a better and a 
higiier motive. 1 wish to impress on the minds of my youth- 
ful readers an idea of the Aast value of liberty by showing 
the price at wliieh it was purchased, in order that they may 
never, through ignorance, be guilty of the sin of ingratitude. 
When they shall learn, that in the midst of horrors and suffer- 
ings, not ouo of (hose linn and virtuous patriots purchased 
relief from his miseries by abandoning or betraying the holy, 
cause of liberty, they will then kuow better how to estimate 
their fathers, and tread in their steps, should it ever be neces- 
sary to make similar sacrifices. The name of Arnold stands 
alone in a dreary and infamous solitude, as the only one that 
stained the annals of a glorious contest by betraying his 
country. 

It this treatment of his prisoners arose from bad feeling on 
the part of General Howe, it was cruel as impolitic. Sa far 
from quelling the obstinacy of resistance, it added new vigour 
to its action, and imparted the energies of revenge to the de- 
sire of freedom. The spirit which is not crushed by oppres- 
sion becomes invincible. 

But it was not merely the prisoners that were treated in 
this unmanly and shameful manner. When General Howe 
passed into New Jersey in pursuit of Washington, the inha- 
bitants remained for the most part quietly at home, under the 
sanction of protections that were perpetually violated. The 
Hessians could not read English, and if they had been able, 
would have paid little attention to them. They had been told 
by those who sold, as well as by those" who bought them, that 
they were going to tight against savages, who spared neither 
sex nor agt> ; who were the enemies, not only of all govern- 
ments, but of the social slate, and, in short, of the whole hu- 
man race. They came under this impression, and for a while 



LIVE. OF WASHINOTON. Ill 

acted accordingly. They, lajwuvor, ;it length discovered their 
miHtakc. 'J'liey found they were warring agaiiiHt men and 
( JhriBtians. Wiieu taken priaonerH, they wore treated with a 
kiudneHH tiicy little deserved : by degrees they became ac- 
(^uainted with the real nature of a ([uarrel in which the whole 
human race might feel an ecjual intereut, for our cause was 
that of mankind; and long before the couclueion of the war, 
Huch was their proneness to desertion, that the royalist gene- 
rals did not dare to cmiiloy them as sentinels. 

Such, howev(!r, was not their conduct at the commence- 
ment of the struggle. They rioted in unrestrained liceutious- 
neas among the people of New Jersey ; property was wan- 
tonly destroyed where it could not bo consumed or carried 
away ; the h(ai-rooHts were robbed ; hogs, sheep, cattle, and 
poultry carried off; peaceable men murdered or led away pri- 
soners; women insulted, abused, and outraged by every sj)e» 
cies of wantonness, and a scene of alllictioa and endurance 
was exhibited, as disgraceful to one party as it was grievous 
to the other. But nothing is more true, than that the olT'ences 
of men are revenged by their own consetiuences. This course, 
instead of ([uelling the spirit of resistancf?, only served to give 
it a new and more determined impulse. The thrifty and 
elastic sapling which was thus attempted to be pulled down 
to the eartli and broken, recoiled with accelerated force, and 
swung the assailants high in the air. The .Jersey Blues were 
not to be subjugated by insult and aggression. From that pe- 
riod they sought no protection but the arms of freemen. The 
royalist general had only the satisfaction of making inveterate 
enemies, where perliaps he might have made grateful friends, 
or at least conciliated a (juiet neutrality. The Jersey farmers 
flew to arms, associated in independent parties, which finally 
acted in conjunction with each other, and rallying their com- 
bined forci', liiMnmed m the royaiint army to such purpose, that 
they no longer ventured forth except in large force. Evea 



112 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

then they were greatly harassed, and often suffered serious loss. 
So much for attemptin:? to suhdiie a spirited people by in- 
Bults and injuries. 

The behaviour of the militia on Long Island, at Fort Wash- 
ington, and on subsequent occasions, had very much weak- 
ened the confidence of Washington, in the iiossibility of sus- 
taining the contest, witliout a large accession of regular troops. 
He had addressed a most serious remonstrance to Congress, 
urging this subject on its consideration, and strenuously in- 
sisting on the necessity of promptly attending to the increas- 
ing wants of the army. '^ I ask pardon," he says, in conclu- 
sion, "for taking up so much of their time with my opinions- 
but I should betray tliat trust which they and my country 
have reposed in me, were I to be silent on matters so exceed- 
ingly interesting." 

The ancestors of those whu were now contending for that 
freedom which they had sought in the wilderness of the New 
World had ever cherished a decided antipathy to great stand- 
ing armies. They considered them, and most justly, as chosen 
instruments in the hands of ambitious leaders for overturning 
the liberties of mankind. They believed that hireling soldiers 
had for the most part neither patriotism nor integrity, and that 
they were just as likely to turn their swords against the bosom 
of their country as to defend it against the aggressions of 
others. History and experience had established the truth of 
this opinion, and the stern republicans of that uno(iualled body, 
the first American Congress, did not relish the idea of author- 
izing a power which might in the end supercede their own, 
and after assisting to destroy one despotism, end by establish- 
ing another. On the great general principle they were right . 
and no blame ought to attach to them for tlieir unwillingness 
to give up their dependence on the militia. Until convinced 
by experience of the necessity of resorting to some other 
means of defence, they were perfectly justifiable in relying in 



LIFE OF WA8HINGH0N. 113 

a groat measure on this. The greatest, and tlie most danger- 
ous enemy to libert}', is a popular general at the head of a vic- 
torious array ; and where there is one Washington standing 
alone in modern history, there are crowds of traitors who only 
freed their country from foreign chains to fetter it more firmly 
with their own. 

But for the virtuous forbearance and devoted patriotism of 
Washington who shall say, that at the conclusion of the war, 
when the prize was actually gained, the apprehensions of the 
friends of freedom might not have been realized in the camp at 
Newburgh. Those, therefore, who so freely censure the con- 
duct of as wise and as patriotic an assemblage as perhaps ever 
met together either in the Old or the New World for hesitating 
to comply with the requisitions of Washington for a great in- 
crease of the regular army, will do well to reverence their 
scruples, rather than blame their delays. Both were right, 
and both acted in conformity with their respective situations. 
The one was charged with asserting the independence of his 
country by arms ; the other with sustaining the principles of 
civil liberty, by a wise and salutary caution not to endanger 
the one in securing the other. The people of the United States 
might have become jealous of their Congress, jealous of their 
general, impatient of supporting a great standing army, and 
sought, by returning to their old masters, a refuge from the 
exactions of the new. Exercising, as it did, a precarious au- 
thority, founded entirely on the voluntary submission of the 
people, Congress was right to refrain from any measures that 
might have produced disaffection or disunion. There were 
always enough malcontents, and it would have been danger- 
ous to increase their numbers. 

Notwithstanding all that has been said on the subject, an 
armed nation, animated by the spirit of freedom, is the best 
defence of a country. Where that high duty is exclusively 
committed to a standing army, the people gradually accustom 



114 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

themselves to rely on it solely. They become listless and in- 
different; they imperceptibly lose every vestige of public 
spirit, and degenerate into habits which render them both un- 
willing and unable to defend their own rights, or vindicate 
those of their country. Those who remember the battles of 
Lexington and Bunker Hill, the exploits of INIarion in South 
Carolina, and, above all, the memorable victory of New Or- 
leans, ought not to despise militia. Strict discipline converts 
reasoning beings into mere machines, and it is better to de- 
pend on men, than machinery, for the defence of a nation. 

After the defeat on Long Island, and the capture of Fort 
Washington, the cause of freedom seemed all but desperate. 
It is impossible to contemplate the situation of affairs at that 
time, without being convinced that, under Providence, the 
chief dependence of the States was on Washington alone. 
Had he despaired — had he faltered — had he remitted his exer- 
tions, his caution, his celerity, or his duty, all might, and 
probably would, have been lost. Bat he never for a moment 
sunk under the burden of his country. Kelying on the good- 
ness of his cause, the support of the Great Author of all good, 
the spirit and patriotism of his countrymen, and, without 
doiibt, sustained by a noble consciousness of his own capacity 
to guide the state over this stormy ocean, he never lost sight 
of the port for which he was steering. He always saw the 
light a-head, and steered for it with a steady eye and deter- 
mined hand. 

He bowed his lofty spirit, which ever prompted him to 
meet, rather than avoid, his enemy, to stern necessity, and 
retreated as he advanced. New Jersey, which soon after 
witnessed and shared in his triumphs, now saw him avoiding 
and baffling, with matchless dexterity and caution, a superior 
force, with which it would have been madness to contend. 
To add to his difficulties, disafi'ection began to rear its head 
among those who had hitherto remained quiet ; and the royal- 



LIFE 0*" WASHINGTON. 115 

ists of the county of Monmouth, encouraged by the aspect of 
affairs, were preparing to rise in behalf of the invader. 

Still Washington preserved his equanimity. Both his head 
and his heart remained true ; and wherever opportunity of- 
fered, he faced his enemy to retard, if he could not arrest, his 
career. While the British poured on with increasing numbers 
and confidence, his own little destitute army daily decreased. 
As fast as their short periods of service expired, the levies 
departed for their homes, leaving their General destitute of 
almost every means of opposition. The tories of New Jersey 
became more bold with the certainty of success, and the well- 
affected to the cause of liberty were repressed by the presence 
of their enemies. 

After vainly attempting to oppose the royai army, now 
commanded by the active Cornwallis, at Brunswick, Washing- 
ton retreated to Trenton, where he resolved to remain till the 
last moment, having first passed his baggage and stores to the 
other side of the Delaware. He wished to accustom his 
troops to the sight of the enemy, and hoped that in the arro- 
gance of success, Corn Aval lis might afford him an opportunity 
of striking a blow. At this moment, his cavalry consisted of 
a single corps of Connecticut militia ; he was almost destitute 
of artillery ; and his army amounted to but three thousand 
men. One-third of these consisted of New Jersey militia, 
and of the others, the term of service of many was about to 
expire. Add to this, the almost entire want of every thing 
that constitutes the efficiency of an army, and my young 
readers will think that the cause of liberty hung by a single 
hair. But it was not so. It had right and Providence on its 
side, and it was sustained by Washington. Supported and 
animated by these, a handful of barefooted soldiers, marching 
on the frozen ground of an American winter, and tracked by 
their enemies by their blood on the enow, achieved miracles, 
and saved their country. 



llf> LIFE OF WASUINSTON. 

General Howe, encouraged by a hope that the almost des- 
perate aspect of afiairs might now enforce his promises of 
pardon, issued a proclamation, ollering the boon to all whOj 
within sixty days, ajjpeared before officers of his appointment, 
and signified their submission to the royal authority. Despair- 
ing of tlie cause, or perhaps secretly disafTected, many availed 
themselves of lliis amnesty ; and a general opinion, which 
daily gained ground, prevailed among all classes, that a longer 
contest for independence was not only hopeless, but impossi- 
ble. But the maxim of virtue and wisdom is never to despair. 
The crisis of the fever is not always death, and the last hour 
of suilering is often the period of renovation. Light succeeds 
darkness, just as surely as darkness succeeds light. Washing- 
ton never despaired. While in the full tide of retreat, General 
Keed is said to have exclaimed, " My (iod ! General Washing- 
ton, how long shall we lly ?" " Why, sir," replied Washington, 
" we will retreat, if necessary, over every river of our coun- 
try, and then over the mountains, where I will make a last 
stand against the enemies of my country." 

The royalist generals had not yet learned the lesson of vigi- 
lance and celerity. Tliey did not know that presumptuous 
delays are the forerunners of disaster, or that the American 
Fabius was also the American Hannibal, when occasion re- 
(piired. It never occurred to them that the retreating lion 
will sometimes turn on his pursuers when least expected. 
Cornwallis remained inactive at Brunswick, leaving Wash- 
ington a few days of leisure, which he employed with his 
usual industry in making prejiarations for the ensuing cam- 
paign, lie urfred congress, he urged the governors of the dif- 
ferent states, by every motive of patriotism, to take measures 
for tlie safety of the country, and the success of its cause ; 
and, while stimulating others, himself set the example which 
he enforced by his precepts. 

While the British commanders were carousing at New 



LIFK op MASHINQTON. 117 

York and Brunswick, and boasting the anticipated triuniplirf 
of their master; while the true lovers of liljorfy seemed al- 
ready wrapt in the Bliroud of dissolution; while the last suu 
seemed going down on their independence, and tlie last blow 
only wanting to the ruin of their cause, some little gleams of 
comfort appeared. The worthy governor Miflliu of Pennsyl- 
vania exerted himself successfully in roushig the good citizens 
of Philadelphia to the defence of their country. A large por- 
tion of them embodied themselves in arms, and fifteen hun- 
dred joined Washington at Trenton. Thus reinforced, lie, 
who never remained on the defensive except against his will, 
moved upon Princeton in a direction towards the enemy then 
at Brunswick, (^n his way, however, learning that Coru- 
wallis, having received large reinforcements, was advancing 
by different routes with a view to gain liis rear, and cut him 
off from the Delaware, he changed his purpose and crossed to 
the west bank of the river, so opportunely that the enemy 
came in sight at the moment. 

The two armies now remained opposite each other on the 
different banks of the river. The object of Cornwallis was to 
cross over, and either force Washington to fight him, or, in 
the event of his retreating, gain possession of Philadelphia. 
That of the American general was to prevent the enemy 
crossing the Delaware. For this purpose he resorted to every 
means in his power, slender as tJiey were. While thus situ- 
ated. General Charles Lee, who had been repeatedly urged by 
Washington to join him as speedily as possible with the troops 
under his orders, but who had wilfully delayed from time to 
time, suffered himself to be surprised at his (Quarters by a de- 
tachment of the royal army, was talcen prisoner, and for a 
while relieved the cause of America from the mischiefs of his 
services. The event, however, seemed still further to depress 
the hopes of the Americans, already reduced to the verge of 
despair, 



118 LIFE OP WASHINGTON. 

At thia moment the British force on the Delaware consisted 
of four thousand men quartered at Trenton and the neigh- 
bouring towns. Other bodies of troops were at Princeton, 
Brunswick, Elizabethtown and Ilackensack. Thus a large 
portion of New Jersey was in possession of the enemy. The 
invading army, to use the words of Wasliington, was increas- 
ing like a snowball, by the arrival of new reinforcements and 
accession of the disaffected, while his own force was inferior 
in numbers, and, as usual, deiicieut in all the necessary re- 
quisites for eflicient action. Even these miserable elements 
were about dissolving. The ice would soon form in the De- 
laware, and the British general might avail himself of it to 
cross the river and take possession of Philadelphia, for thf re 
was no force capable of preventing him. Such an event, by 
further depressing the lingering hopes of the patriots, would 
increase the obstacles to recruiting his army, already almost 
insurmountable. It is impossible to read the letters of this 
great man at this period without shivering at the prospects 
tliey disclose ; and at the same time receiving a conviction 
that he was now the last stay of his country. Had he faltered 
in his purposes, or failed in his exertions, it had been all over 
with the republic. The dark night had come, and no one 
could tell when it would be morning. 

In such trying moments as these, when the fate of millions 
of men, and of countless millions of their posterity is at stake ; 
when great principles are on the verge of ruin, and every 
movement brings nearer the crisis of a nation's fate, then it is 
that the metal of a man is tried in the furnace, and the dis- 
covery made whether it is true gold or riot. Where others 
eink he rises ; through the darkness which hides the lamp of 
hope from all other eyes, he sees the beckoning light, and 
jBnds his way where others lose it for ever. Instead of de- 
spairing, he is roused to new exertion, and that which makes 
cowards of other men stimulates him only to more daring 



LIFE OP WASHINOTON. 119 

temerity. Ho perceives that there is a crisis in the affairs of 
nations when caution is uo longer safety, and to march up to 
the teeth of danger the only road to success. When tlie case 
of the patient is desperate, so must be the remedy. 

To such minds as that of Washington it must often have 
occurred that incautious men are very apt, while watching 
others, to expose themselves ; that no force is strong when 
taken unprepared ; and that an enemy certain of success is al- 
ready half-vanquished, since, in all probability, he will neglect 
the means to secure it. Prompted by this inspiration, and 
urged on by the absolute necessity of striking a blow that 
might awaken the slumbering energies, and revive the almost 
extinguished hopes of his country, he formed the glorious de- 
sign of attacking the enemy at tlie moment he was lulled in 
the lap of security, waiting for the freezing of the river, to 
drive the Americans before him like flakes of snow in the win- 
try tempest. 

Great was the design, and nobly was it executed, so far as 
the elements of nature would permit the exertions of man to 
be successful. The night was dark as pitch; the north-east 
wind whistled along the shores of the Delaware, laden with 
freezing sleet, and the broken ice came crashing down the 
stream in masses that, as they encountered the rocks above, 
shivered into fragments, with a noise that might be heard for 
many miles. Neither man nor beast was out that night, and 
the enemy sought shelter in the houses of the citizens of Tren- 
ton from the howling storm. But Washington was up and 
doing. In the dead of the night, and amid the conflict of the 
mighty elements, the boats were launched on the bosom of 
the icy torrent, and after incredible exertions reached the op- 
posite shore. Without waiting a moment to learn the fate of 
the other two divisions, which were to co-operate in this 
daring adventure, he dashed forward towards his destined 
prey, through a storm of hail and snow, that rattled in the 



120 LIFE OP WASHINOTON 

teeth of his brave companions in arras, and the dawn of day 
saw him driving in the i)osts of the enemy at Trenton. The 
])icket-guard luid no time to fire, so impetuous and unexpected 
was tlie shock of the Americans; tliey retreated to where 
Colonel Ralle, who commanded the enemy, had drawn up his 
men. That officer fell mortally wounded almost at the first 
fire, and his troops retreated. Washington advanced rapidly 
upon them, throwing at the same time a detachment in their 
front, when, seeing themselves surrounded, they laid down 
their arms, and surrendered at discretion. A thousand pri- 
soners, with their arms, and six field-pieces, were captured on 
this occasion, at the expense of two Americans who were 
frozen to death, two killed, and a single officer wounded. 
This was James Monroe, late president of that confederation 
whicli he had shed his blood to cement and preserve. Thus 
two men fought here together, in the same field, and in the 
same cause, who were destined in after-life to attain the 
highest station in the world. From the signal success which 
attended tlie division under "Washington, there can be no rea- 
son to doubt that if the others had been able to cross the De- 
laware, tliat morning might have been rendered still more 
ilk!strious, by the total discomfiture of the whole Britisli force 
at the diiTerent positions along the Delaware. 

But, even as it was, the result of that day's business was of 
vital consequence to the question of independence. Had 
Wasliington failed in the attempt, it would have cost him, 
and the greater portion of his division, their lives or their 
freedom. Had tliis been the case, the stream of liberty, al- 
ready almost dry, would perhaps have ceased to flow any 
longer. There was but one Washington — there never has 
been but one in the world. If the Americans at this, the 
gloomiest period of their struggle, had lost him, Heaven only 
knows what might have been the conseiiuences. The Power 
that watched over them might have supplied the deficiency^ 



LIFE QP WASHINGTON. 121 

but without the wisdom and virtue of another Washington, I 
cannot see how the country could have been saved, had he 
been lost. 

But happily, the question was not to be tried. The result 
was that of entire success, so far as the plan could be carried 
into effect amid the insuperable obstacles of nature. That day 
was the dawning of centuries, I hope, of better days to our 
countiy. The attempt and the success, of Washington as- 
tonished the British ; and from that moment they began to 
discover that they had to deal with one in whose presence 
they could never sleep on their posts in safety. 

History has seldom recorded an action more daringly 
judicious or more eminently successful than the one just re- 
lated. It possesses all the characteristics of courage, enter- 
prise, and sagacity ; its conception was equally profound and 
masterly ; the arrangements for its prosecution, the time 
chosen for carrying it into effect, and the manner in which it 
was borne out to complete success, all serve to demonstrate 
that the consummate prudence of Washington was eombined 
with a courage and enterprise equally admirable, and that, 
had he possessed the means of exercising the latter quality, he 
would have crushed his enemy with even greater celerity than 
he avoided him. It was a great action in its conception, con- 
duct, and consequences ; and nothing is wanting but numbers 
to give it equal dignity with the most illustrious exploits of 
ancient or modern times. 

AVith a view to animate the spirits of the people of Phila- 
delphia, Washington made some little parade of marching his 
prisoners into that city, with the captured flags and cannon, 
and bristling bayonets. By this exhibition the disaffected 
were overawed, and the friends of liberty animated to new 
exertions. 

Throughout the whole of the revolutionary war the prisoner* 



122 LIPR OV WASHINGTON. 

taken from the enemy Imd boon uniformly treated with 
hunianily by (ho Ami<rii'iins, oxoi^pt in rotali.ition of thoir own 
couiluct to ours. 'I'liaso captured at rrinoetou consisted 
principally of Hesainna, and if ever j)rov( cation could justify 
inluiniauity, the excesses of these men would have furnished 
mi excuse. Poth history and tradition unite in recording 
almost innunierable instances of individual cruelty, insult 
and robbery on tlieir part, calculated to call forth the bitterest 
feelings of vengeance in the breasts of those who suffered, and 
tho.ie wlio sympathized witli the suflerers. This was the first 
opportunity of repaying tliem, and the humanity of Washington 
retaliated their injuries by kindness. They were treated with 
eA'ery jiroper attention, compatible with the means in his 
power, and the result proved on this, as on every occasion 
which occurred during the war, that humanity, like honesty, 
is always the best policy. 

The Hessians, as I have before observed, bad come over to 
the New World full of prejudices againt the Americans. They 
considered them little better than savages, and treated them 
as if they were without the pale of civilized warfare. They 
were told that if taken they would receive no quarter, and, 
cousenuently, they gave none. Put the kindness with which 
they weiv treated opened both their eyes and their hearts. 
From this time they began to be disaffected to the barbaixnis 
service in which they had been employed : their feelings be- 
came enlisted in the cause of liberty ; they took every oppor- 
tunity of deserting, and of all that came over, few ever re- 
turned. Those who survived, remained among us ; those who 
came to deprive us of freedom settled down by our side in the 
full enjoyment of its blessings, and became a j^ortion of our 
most useful citizens. Such are the peaceful triumphs of mercy 
and beiievolence, and such the means by which the good 
Washington twice conquered the enemies of his country ; — 
once by his valour, and again by his humanit)'. 



LIFB .or WAHHCNQTOW. Mi 

Tlie news of the brilliant succesui at Trenton arouMd the 

British commandor-in-cliicf iit Now- York, who was oxpecting 
every day to hear of the capture or dispersion of the American 
forces. He despatched Cornwallis, who was on the point of 
sailinff for I'liglaiid, but unluckily for hin future reputation 
was detained, into New Jersey, witli a force wliicli, in his 
opinion, must carry all before it. Washington had also been 
reinforced, and recroasjiug the Delaware, once more took post 
at Trenton. Hissituation here again becauioextreniely criUcal. 
He had, witli the boldneSH becoming in a man consciouH tiiat the 
great crisis of hia country's fate had arrived, determined to make 
a winter campaign, with a view to wrest tho whole of New Jer- 
sey from tlie hands of the enemy. But a force vawtly 8U{)erior to 
his own was now rapidly apjiroaching, like an impetuous tor- 
rent, to sweep him and his litth; army into the freezing Dela- 
ware, and the only alternativoH that prOHcuted theniHelves 
were a choice of dilliultieH. Tlie state of the river was such 
as precluded either crossing on the ice or in boats, and if he 
retreated in any other direction, he would he met by a superior 
enemy, whom he could not successfully oppose. 

In this situation, he again took council from his bold and 
masterly genius. He resolved once more to bafTle the (memy 
by becoming the assailant. The van of the troops under 
Cornwallis had now taken possession of Trenton, and the 
two armies had nothing but the Assumpink, a small stream 
scarcely thirty yards wide, between them. Tradition has pre- 
served the story that Sir William Erskine urged Cornwallis 
to an immediate attack. 

" Now is the time," said he, " to make sure of Wasliington.'* 

" Our troops are hungry and tired," replied the other. " He 

and his tatterdemalions are now in my power. They cannot 

escape to-night, for the ice of the Delaware will neither bear 

their weight, nor admit of the passage of boats. To-morrow^ 



124 LIFB OF WAsaiNQTON. 

at break of day, I will attack them, and the rising son shall 
see the end of rebellion." 

" My lord," replied Sir William, " Washington will not be 
there at daybreak to-morrow." 

The rising sun indeed saw another sijjht. It saw Washing- 
ton at Princeton, and the British at .Trenton heard the echoes 
of his cannon cracking amid the frosts of the wintry morning. 
He had, after rei)lenishing his fires to deceive the enemy, de- 
parted with his usual iiuiet celerity, and marched upon Prince- 
ton, where three British regiments were posted in fancied se- 
curity, not dreaming of the approach of a foe. Though sur- 
prised, the enemy made a gallant defence, and he who had so 
long and so often been the shield of his country, now became 
its Bword. His capacious and unerring mind again saAV that 
another moment had come, on which hung the destinies of his 
beloved country. The cause of freedom now quivered on the 
brink of a precipice, from which, if it fell, it might never rise 
again. 

The British force was met in full march towards Trenton. 
On perceiving the advanced guard of the Americans, they faced 
about, and repassing a small stream, advanced under cover of 
a wood. A short but sharp action ensued ; the militia soon 
fled, and the small body of regulars, being far overmatched, 
was broken. At this critical moment, Washington came up 
with the corps under his command, and renewed the action. 
Seeing at a single glance that all was now at stake, and all 
would be lost by defeat, he became inspired with that sublime 
spirit which always most animates courage and genius in the 
hjur of greatest peril. He snatched a standard, and calling oa 
his soldiers to come to the rescue of their country, dashed into 
the midst of the enemy. His good soldiers, animated by his 
words, and still more by his example, backed him bravely. 
The valiant British cried " God save the king," and the sol- 
diers of freedom shouted " God save George Washington 



tlFB OB" wASHINttTONi 126 

and he did save him. After a contest as keen as the edge of 
their swords, the British broke, fled, and were hotly pursued. 
Some went in one direction, some another. A single regiment 
took refuge in the college, but retreated through the back-doors 
on the approach of the artillery, and the classic fane conse- 
crated to learning and science, was equally consecrated to 
victory. 

One hundred and twenty killed, and three hundred prisoners, 
were the tribute paid by the enemy to the genius, enterprise, 
and gallantry of Washington, The Americans lost sixty-three, 
whose names, like those of many other humble champions of 
freedom, are buried in their graves. The name of General 
Mercer, who fell early in tho action, is alone beciueathed to 
posterity, and deserves to be remembered, though not alone. 
He is recorded as one of the most precious of all our martyrs 
to the shrine of liberty ; and his loss, which was deeply 
mourned at the time, will bo long regretted, not on his own 
account, but that of his country. He who expires in the arms 
of victory, and in defence of his liberty, lives long enough ; for 
he has lived to leave behind him a name that will never die. 

That morning, when Cornwallis opened his eyes to the dawn, 
the south bank of tho Assumpink was as silent as the grave, 
and nothing but a few waning fires remained to designate the 
spot that was a few hours before alive with human beings. 

"Where can Washington be gone?" asked the royal general. 
At that moment, the distant roar of cannon was heard in the 
direction of Princeton. 

" There he is," answered Erskine, " rehearsing the tragedy 
of Colonel Ealle." 

" By Jove ! he deserves to fight in the cause of his king," 
cried the other. 

But he was fighting in a cause far higher than that of kings. 
He was sustaining the cause of freedom, and the rights of his 
country. 



186 IIFK OP WASHINaTON. 

Thus once more did the heart of all America throb at the 
news that light had come out of darkness, and hope sprung up 
with renewed vigour from the regions of despair. Twice had 
the republicans expected to hear that all was lost, and twice 
had they heard that victories had been snatched from a supe- 
rior and hitherto triumpliant foe. The genius of liberty again 
held up her head amid the gloom that surrounded her, and 
flapped her wings for joy. Her votaries, who had partaken in 
her despair, shared iu her rejoicings, and now, for the first 
time since the catalogue of disasters, which, one after the 
other, had depressed the very souls of the stoutest advocates 
and defenders of freedom, did there awake in the bosoms of all 
a noble pro])hetic consciousness, that the laud which had de- 
termined to be independent was capable of achieving the boon. 
In ten days, Washington had changed the whole aspect of 
aftairs, and given to his country a respite, if not a deliverance. 

Soon after tliis second victory, the enemy went into winter- 
quarters at Brunswick and the adjacent villages, leaving 
Washington master of the ground he had gained by his gal- 
lantry, wisdom, and perseverance. 



XlFB OF WASHXNaTONr 10 



CHAPTFE X. 

Winter Operations. Eulogium on the First Congress. Plan of the eniuing 
Campaign. Successful Caution of Washington. Howe changes hU Plans. 
Lands at the head of the Chesapeaice, and advances towards Philadelphia. 
Battle of Brandywine. Lafayette Wounded. Howe enters Philadelphia. 
Battle of Germantown. Operations along the Delaware. Red Bank. 
Death of Count Donop. Operations in the North. Savage Warfare. Bat« 
tie of Bennington. Repulse at Fort Stauwix. Desertion of Burgoyne's In- 
dians. Battle at Bemis Heights. Surrender of General Burgoyne, and deli-^ 
cate Conduct of his Conquerors* 

The cessatiou of actual hostilities, produced by the British 
army entering into winter-quarters, brought no relaxation to 
the labours of Washington. It was his fate to struggle with 
difficulties that had no intermission, and obstacles without 
end, during the greater part of seven anxious years of almost 
perpetual disappointments and mortifications. Always act- 
ing, and compelled to act on the defensive without the means 
of defence, except when compelled by inevitable necessity, 
he rushed back on his enemy, gave him a single blow to check 
his arrogance for a moment, and then bowed his spirit to th^ 
yoke of fate. 

His winters were employed in pointing out and urging on 
Congress and the different governors of the states the adop- 
tion of such measures as experience and disasters had proved 
indispensable to the final success of the cause ; in soothing^ 
the feelings of his suffering soldiers, smarting under every 
deprivation; in providing as far as practicable against th8 
severity of the winter, which smote them with tenfold keen- 
ness in their destitute situation, and in preparing for another 
year of trial and vicissitudes. But the vigour of his mind 
was equal to that of his body, and both were sustained by a. 
conscioueness of nght, duiiudtjcl by lixe paiest flame of pa« 



IStf itlPK OV WASHINGION'i; 

triotisra. That which made others despair, only braced him 
to new exertions; and tlie burden wliich would have crushed 
a common spirit, like the ballast of a noble ship, only made 
him the more difTlcult to overset. During the whole winter 
he continued to harass the enemy by skirmishes and sur- 
prises. 

Nor did he stand alone, the single pillar of the state, 
though assuredly the keystone of the arch. That illustrious 
body of patriots, the lirst Congress in time, in talents, inte- 
grity, and patriotism that ever convened in the United States, 
was not behind-hand in the noble strife. In the midst of de-' 
feat and disaster, when the past presented little else than a 
long black catalogue of woes, and the finger of the futurc 
pointed to nothing but an aggravated repetition, that body 
stood firm as a rock by the side of Washington. It rejected 
all offers of peace without independence ; it debated the 
great questions, embracing life and death, infamy and fame, 
freedom and slavery, with a temper, a firmness, and dignity 
■which neither ancient nor modern times have equalled. The 
boasted Senate of Rome sat unmoved at the approach of the 
barbarian chief; but the members of the old Congress of the 
United States exerted themselves to ward off the ruin of 
their country, rather than submit to it like philosophers. 

Limited as were their means, and still more limited their 
authority, they bore themselves like the true fathers of the 
state. They seconded the recommendations and remonstrances 
of Washington, with a tempered experience which taught 
them not to press too heavy on a people already discouraged by 
ill-success, and impoverished by the vicissitudes of war; and 
"with a noble patriotism which made them cautious how they 
interfered Avith the sacred rights of the citizen, in providing 
for the wants of the soldiers in defence of their country. 
They voted the enlistment of more men ; they gave every aid 
m filling up the regiments already authorized to be raised; 



tIFB OB" WASHINOTON. 129 

they conferred on Waahfngton powers wliicli enabled him 
for six months to act iudopoudently of their orders ; and on 
all occasions, by unanimity, talent, integrity, and firmness, 
so conducted themselves as to merit the gratitude of all pos- 
terity. I would enumerate them one by one, but my young 
readers cannot look into the records of their country without 
seeiug them shining like stars in the firmament, nor listen to 
the voice of their countrymen without hearing their names 
coupled with blessings. 

Tiio plan ultimately adopted by the royal general for the 
ensuing campaign was far more extensive and better ar- 
ranged than that of tlie preceding, which had been in a 
great degree the result of circumstances. The design was, 
that General Howe, with tlu; main body of his army, should 
proceed to the southward by sea, and advance with the fleet 
up the Delaware upon Philadelphia, which, it waa sup- 
posed, must ultimatly fall into tiie hands of the enemy. The 
experience of the royal general had not yet taught him that 
the possession of our cities was not the subjugation of the 
country, and their importance was much overrated. Another 
object was, liowever, connected with the invasion of I'ennsyl- 
vania. It necessarily called tlio attention of Washington to 
that quarter, and in a great measure prevented him from 
aiding, either personally or by detachments of his army, in 
imjieding or defeating the other portion of their plan, which 
was conceived with great judgment and skill. While Wash- 
ington was thus employed in defending other portions of the 
Union from the inroads of a superior army, Burgoyne was ap- 
proaching from Canada, with a powerful force, to act in con- 
junction witli Sir Henry (Hinton, who commanded a large 
body in New York, in obtaining tlie entire command of the 
Hudson River, thus separating the north and the south. 
Thus divided, and incapable of giving each other mutual aid, 
F a 



130 LIFB or WASHINeTOM. 

it was supposed that each would in succession fall an easy 
prey. Judicious as this plan might seem, it resulted in a 
catastrophe as little anticipated as it was decisive. The ut- 
most stretch of human wisdom and foresight often does no- 
thing more than weave the web of its own destruction. The 
current of the stream cannot be changed by swimming against 
it, and what Providence hath decreed, man may not gainsay. 
The plan of proceeding by sea to the Delaware was probably 
the result of the admirable caution of Washington, who had 
taken a strong position on the Raritan, which rendered it 
dangerous for General Howe to move against Philadelphia, 
in that direction, leaving the Americans in his rear. 

Washington had gone into winter- quarters at Morristown, 
Id New Jersey, within less than thirty miles of Brunswick, 
where the troops of Cornwallis were disposed, and little more 
from the British head-quarters in New York. His harassed 
and ill-provided soldiers required repose after a campaign of 
unceasing fatigues, wound up by two victories, gained by 
men marching and lighting on the frozen ground, with scarcely 
a shoe to their feet. 

The campaign of 1777 opened under gloomy auspices, and 
promised to the republican cause little else than disasters. 
The army of Wasliington was totally inadequate in numbers, 
discipline, and equipment, to cope with the enemy, with any 
prospect of success. General Howe, with twenty thousand 
veteran troops, was prejiaring to embark for the Delaware, 
whence he was to move on Philndelphia; while Burgoyne was 
approaching with about half that number, backed by hordes of 
savages from the north. The genius of liberty was enclosed 
between two fires, and once more a fatal crisis seemed ap- 
proaching. 

About the latter end of July, or beginning of September, 
General Howe, having changed his original destination, 
landed at the mouth of Elk River, at the head of Chesapeake 



XiFfi OF WASHINaiOM. 13^' 

Bay, and proceeded without interruption to Brandy-wine 
River. Here he was met by Washington, who was deter- 
mined to make an effort to save the capital of Pennsylvania. 
The conserjuence of this meeting was a pretty severe defeat 
of the Americans, who retreated, and were followed by the 
enemy, who took possession of the city in despite of all Wash- 
ington's efforts to prevent them. 

It was in this battle that the name of an illustrious French- 
man first became associated with the history of our country. 
Lafayette, who had heard of the noble struggle going on iu 
the New World, panted to take part in the cause of human 
freedom, and evading the commands of his king, came among 
us, and foue:ht during nearly the whole period of the war on 
our side. He shed his first blood on the banks of the Brandy- 
wine, which, wiiile it flows, will perpetuate his name. 
His sacrifices and services were great and great was bis 
reward. He associated his name with that of Washington, 
and shared and will for ever share with him the gratitude of 
increasing millions of freemen. 

But the enemy did not retain peaceable possession of Phila- 
delphia. Washington hovered near, and wherever he was there 
was no peace for the invaders of his country He watched 
them with unceasing vigilance ; kept them in perpetual ap- 
prehension of attack, and entailed on them the necessity of 
being on their guard day and night. At length, seeing an 
opportunity favourable to his pur])ose, he determined to avail 
himself of it with his usual ardour, which was at all times 
equal to his caution. He was now, in consequence of various 
reinforcements, at the head of twenty thousand men, and 
determined to acf on the offensive 

The British forces had been exposed, in some degree, by the 
mode in which they were distributed. A portion was in Phi- 
ladelphia, from whence the line of encampment extended 
across Germantowu, a long, straggling village, consisting, at 



1S7 IIFB OF WASHINGHON^ 

that time, principally of stone houses, stretching along either 
Bide of the road for nearly two miles. In this situation it ap- 
peared to Washington that a portion of the enemy at this vil- 
lage might be surprised and cut off, and he promptly resolved 
on thje undertaking. a 

His dispositions for this purpose were made with eiiual cau- 
tion and celerity. But the nice co-operation of the different 
parts of the plan, which was indispensably necessary to its 
success, could not he attained. At seven in the evening of the 
4th of October, the Americans removed from their encamp- 
ment, and just at the dawn of the morning, a division under 
General Sullivan encountered and drove in the outposts of the 
British. He Avas quickly followed by the main body, which 
immediately entered into action, but it was more than half an 
hour before the left wing came up. Each of these parties 
were successful in breaking the enemy ; but Lieutenant- 
Colonel Musgrave, with a small body of British, having taken 
possession of a strong stone house, annoyed the Americans so 
much by his fire, that they stopped to dislodge him. The time 
lost in this attempt, which Avas unsuccessful at last, was a se- 
rious disadvantage. The ground too M'as difficult, and the 
obscurity of the morning prevented Washington from seeing 
distinctly what was going forward. The co-operation 
of the different parties -o^as broken ; the delay in attacking the 
stone house, and various accidents, against which no foresight 
can guard, impeded the success of the attack. The enemy 
rallied, and became the assailants. The brigade under General 
Greene, after a sharp encounter, was broken ; the right wing 
faltered ; tlie division of Wayne, in falling back on its friends, 
•was mistaken for their enemies, and confusion became general. 
Washington, perceiving that all hope of success was lost for 
that time, reluctantly yielded to the disappointment of his 
sanguine hopes, and retired from the field, which at one mo- 
ment had promised him a harvest of laurels. He retreated 



LIFE OB* WASHINGTON. 133 

about twenty miles, and halted at Perkiomen Creek, where, 
receiving a reinforcement of Virginians, he turned back, and 
resumed his former position in the vicinity of Philadelphia. 

The British fleet, which landed General Howe and his army 
in the vicinity of Chesapeake Bay, had afterwards entered the 
capes of Delaware, and sailed up that river for the purpose of 
aiding the operations of the land forces. Various small en- 
counters took place at Mud Fort and Bed Bank, near Philadel- 
phia, and it was in an ineffectual ■ettempt on the latter that 
Count Donop was mortally wounded, and taken prisoner. — 
He received the kindest attentions from the Americans, and a 
message from Washington, expressing his sympathy. These 
acts of magnanimous forgetfulness of injuries, it is said, over- 
came the dying soldier, and brought tears into his eyes. He 
replied to the messenger of Washington — " Tell him," said 
he, " that I never expect to rise from my bed ; but if I should, 
my first act shall be to thank him in person. He died regret- 
ting the service in which he had embarked against a people 
so humane : and he is one of those whose fate is lamented by 
his enemies. 

But the means within the grasp of Washington, though di- 
rected with consummate skill and courage, were at all times 
insufficient to produce any result, but those of partial and 
temporary successes. Always inferior in numbers, or in all 
that constitutes tlie efficiency of numbers, his triumphs con- 
sisted in delaying the operations of the enemy, rather than 
preparing the way for his own. That, during successive years 
of defensive war, under every circumstance of discourage- 
ment, he saved his army, and his noble cause from utter ruin, 
is more to his honour than gaining victories and conquering 
nations with superior means. The enemy at length succeeded 
in forcing a way for their ships up to Philadelphia, and ob- 
taining the necessary supplies through their co-operation. 

In the mean time the war raged furiously in the north and 



134 ilKB Off WASHlNaTON. 

in the south. The country was bleeding at its heart and its 
extremities. Burgoyne, with a victorious army, and a band 
of savages, advanced from Canada towards Lake Champlain> 
and, pouring into the state of New York, let loose all the hor- 
rors of civilized and savage warfare. The detested union of 
the tomahawk and scalping -knife with the cannon and the 
bayonet, of Christian white man and pagan red man, was 
once more exhibited in all its horrors. Indian warriors and 
Christian soldiers now fought side by side, and it seemed 
doubtful which claimed the pre-eminence in reckless barbarity. 
I he one seemed to have forgotten what the other never knew, 
and the tragedy of Miss M'Crae will for ever attest the con- 
sequences of this infamous association of civilized arts and 
savage ferocity. The apology of Christians for the barbarity 
of their Indian allies is, that it was impossible to restrain 
them ; but it should be recollected, that those who let slip the 
whirlwind are responsible for its devastations, and that, to 
put arms in the hands of savages, who never spare, is to be- 
come an accomplice in all their atrocities. 

Throughout the whole of this struggle, the policy of the 
British ministry, which most assuredly did not act in accord- 
ance with the feelings of the people of England towards the 
United States, was harsh and unfeeling, as it was weak and 
impolitic. There were times, and many times, during the 
more early periods of tlie war, in which the cause of liberty 
seemed so desperate, that its advocates might have been sub- 
dued by kindness and forbearance. But, fortunate for the fate 
of freedom, and for the future destiny of our country, when- 
ever our alTuirs v/ere at the lowest ebb, or whenever the Bri- 
tish general offered the olive-branch with one hand, with the 
other he at the same time perpetrated additional insults and 
injuries. He had to do with a people who might have been 
conciliated by kindness, but whom barbarities could never 
subdue. He preferred the wind to the sun, and the conse- 



LIFK OF WABHINftTON. 135 

quence was, that the Americans only girded their cloaks more 
manfully about them. 

The high hills of Vermont and New Hampshire echoed to 
the groans of the blood-stdned valleys of New York, and the 
Green Mountain Boys, seizing their aiierring rifles, rallied in 
the cause of their country and countrymen. The first check 
given to the triumphant invader was given by the militia of 
Vermont, by those who have ever since been distinguished by 
the honourable title of Green Mountain Boys, though they pos- 
sessed the arms and the souls of heroic men. On the memor- 
able heights of Bennington, the Hessians were once more to 
feel the courage and humanity of those who, while defending 
their own lives, respected the lives of their most obnoxious 
enemies. 

Here Breymen and Baum, two experienced officers who had 
been despatched to procure supplies of cattle and horses, and 
to secure or destroy a depot of provisions collected by the 
Americans, were met by Starke, and bitter was the greeting 
he gave them. Colonel Baum, failing in his first objects, forti- 
fied himself in a favourable position, and waited for his asso- 
ciate Breymen. Before he had time to arrive, the Green Moun- 
tain Boys rushed upon his intrenchments with such irresistible 
impetuosity that nothing could stand before them. The val- 
leys rung with the roaring of cannon answered by a thousand 
echoes of the mountains, mingled with shouts and dying 
groans. On the first assault the Canadians took to their heels; 
Baum received a mortal wound, and not a man of all his com- 
panions escaped — all were killed or taken, and six hundred 
Germans totally annihilated. 

Ignorant of the fate of his old comrade, Colonel Breymen 
came up a few hours afterwards, where he met his victorious 
enemies instead of conquering friends. He was received, not 
by the shaking hands of welcoming comrades, but by the 
winged messengers of death from the weapons of his foes. 



136 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

His troops, after sustaining a few fires from the unerring rifles 
of the Green Mountain Boys, broke and sought shelter in the 
woods, where, by degrees, they were at different times nearly 
all taken. 

This was another crisis in the great cause of liberty. The 
fortunes of Burgoyne had hitherto rolled on the flood tide of 
uninterrupted success. But it had become higli water with 
him, and the tide ebbed as rapidly as it had flowed, leaving 
him and his fortunes high and dry ashore. About the same 
time that the parties of Baum and Breymen were destroyed, 
the force co-operating with Burgoyne uuder Colonel 8t. Leger, 
consisting of Britisli and Indians, being met by a fierce resist- 
ance, and alarmed by a false report, raised the siege of Fort 
Stanwix, an important position on the Mohawk. The Indians, 
discouraged by a tedious series of approaches, which resulted 
in a total disappointment of anticipated plunder and massacre, 
deserted their allies and departed to their woods ; while Gene- 
ral Gates, who commanded the American force in the north, 
was daily reinforced by brave spirits flocking from the fields 
and the mountains. Arnold, who afterwards de\oted himself 
to never-dying infamy, was there ; and Morgan, whose fame 
is equally immortal, was also there with those famous rifle- 
men whose every shot was death to an enemy. 

The approach of Burgoyne from the north was connected 
with the expected movement of Sir Henry Clinton, with a 
force from the south. They were to meet at Albany. But 
one never arrived there, and the other went against his will, 
since he was carried as a prisoner, where he anticipated 
entering as a conqueror. 

After many severe encounters and much hard fighting, in 
which Arnold, and Morgan, and Dearborn, and Brooks, and 
many others I have not space to name, distiuguished them- 
selves and won praises from their countrymen, there was 
seen a sight worth beholding. At the mouth of the outlet of 



WFE OF WASHINGTON. 137 

Saratoga Lake, and close to the side of the Hudson, there lies 
a rich meadow, extending a considerable distance up the 
stream. It is beautiful to the eye, but far more precious to 
the heart of every true lover of liberty. On the morning of 
the seventeenth of October, in the year 1777, on that spot 
was seen the first British army laying down its arms and sur- 
rendering to the soldiers of freedom — but not the last. It 
was one of the brightest mornings that ever opened on this 
New World, for it heralded the rising of the sun of freedom, 
which for a long while had sunk below the horizon. It was 
the dawn of high aspiring hopes and gallant confidence. It 
taught the republicans to rely on themselves, and others to rely 
on them. It relieved the country from an army of enemies, 
and it was the precursor to an army of friends. The alliance 
with France was the first fruits of the surrender of Burgoyne. 

Smarting as the Americans were under the recollection of 
recent barbarities, and elevated by success, on this occasion 
they displayed a delicacy of feeling, a refined magnanimity, 
which under all circumstances, were singularly honourable. 
They had faced the British in the heat of battle, in the pride 
of success, but they turned their backs in the hour of hu- 
miliation. When the army of Burgoyne laid down its arms 
in the green meadow on the bank of the Hudson, not an 
American was to be seen. Who shall say our fathers were 
not worthy of liberty ? 

The field of Saratoga will always continue to awaken in 
the minds of all true Americans the proudest recollections. It 
is associated with an event which, more than any other that 
occurred during the revolutionary war, contributed to its 
happy termination, and carried with it a train of consequences 
of which the commencement is only known, and the end can 
only be anticipated. Neither the field of Marathon nor the 
pass of Thermopylae possess such claims to the veneration of 
those who sympathize in the great cause of liberty throughout 



\iS i'l^K Oif WASUINftXOM. 

the world. It is embalmed in ita vast consequences^ for the 
devotion of future times, and every succeeding age will only 
give it new interest and dignity. No native of this land of 
freedom should ever pass it without pausing to contemplate 
the scene, and dwell for a while ou the triumph achieved on 
this spot by the patriotism and valour of his fathers. The 
noble river and the smiling meadow were its witnesses; and 
while the one continues its course, and the other remains green, 
it can never be forgotten. 



CHAPTER XI. 

Number of Burgoyne's Army. New Hopes of the Friends of Liberty^ 
Conduct of Gates. Intrigue to supplant Washington. Parliament. Lord 
Chatham. Sufferings of the Army at Valley Forge. Paper-money. Howe'» 
Inactivity. Proceedings of Parliament. Bill of Pacification, and its Re- 
ception by Congress. General Howe Resigns. His Character. Sir Henry 
Clinton. He evacuates Philadelphia. Is followed by Washington. Battl« 
of Monmouth, and conduct of General Lee. He is tried and sentenced to a 
Year's suspension. His life. Character, and Death. Reflections on the 
Colonial Feeling. 

The army of Burgoyne consisted of about ten thousand men 
on leaving Canada, but was reduced to nearly one-half that 
number when it laid down its arms at Saratoga. At the same 
time that the republicans rid themselves of tliis formidable 
foe they acquired a fine train of artillery, seven thousand 
stand of arms, and a large quantity of military stores. Thus 
failed a plan which threatened the most fatal consequences 
to the cause of liberty, and now it was that even the least 
sanguine spirits looked forward to ultimate success. But the 
boon, though within their grasp, was not yet gained, and 
Providence permitted new trials, as if to show the value of 
the prize by the cost of its purchase. 



Lira ov iitu.»ui«a«oM. IM 

'lliie glial frmt. it wau thought by Congr«;8w, would check 
the adtraoee of 8ir Heary Clinton up the Hudsou, and relieve 
General Gates from all appreheaaioaa from that quarter. It 
was therefore resoh'ed to reinforce Washington by drawing 
detachments from the aorfchera army. He accordingly de- 
puted the celebrated Hamilton, then a very young man, act- 
ing as his aid, to urge Cjreneral Gates to a speedy compliance 
with the orders of Congress. 

Hamilton states in a letter to Washington, that General 
Gates discovered much unwillingness Ui diminish his force, 
and urged his apprehensions of an attack from Sir Henry 
Clinton, as a pretext for declining to furnish the reinforce- 
ments re<iuired. There are, however, strong reasons for be- 
lieving that his conduct originated in other motives. 

It appears that an intrigue had been set on foot to displace 
Washington from the command, and substitute General Gates 
in his place. The capture of Burgoyne, by whomsoever 
achieved, liad carried the reputation of General Gates beyond 
that of any other man in the nation, witli the exception of 
Washingtfju, if, indeed, he was an exception; and a small 
party was formed in Congress, aided by a few officers, not al- 
together destitute of claims to distinction, to place him at the 
head of tlie armies of the United States. 

How far General Gates participated in this project, whe- 
ther he was an active or passive instrument, is a question 
wbich 1 have no disposition to discuss. Whatever may have 
been the real merits of this officer, and his agency in bringing 
about an event so auspicious to the future fortunes of the 
United States as the capture of Burgoyne, still, as the com- 
manding general, who would have been held responsible for 
the failure of the attempt, he cannot be separated from the 
glory acquired by its success. His name is embodied in his- 
tory, it occupies an honourable station among the heroes of 
th« revolution , it ha« become a part of tlie ioheritaftce of na- 



UO II FE OF WASHING* TON. 

tional pride ; it bolouga to tlii» people of the T'nitod ^States, 
and I would not. if 1 could, throw juiy additional shade over 
its brightness. 

But what is already known, cannot be buried iu oblivion. 
It is certain that he became vain of his reputation ; indulged 
in sly inuendoes against the commander-in-chief, and seemed 
dissatisfied or uneasy under the burden of his glory. His 
whole deportment exhibited a striking contrast to tiie calm 
self-poised, self-supported dignity of \Vashington. who. whe- 
ther in prosperity or adversity, success or defeat, sailed along 
in his high sphere of action, like the eagle, far above the heads 
of those around him, without effort or noise. You never saw 
the motion, or heard the tlapping of his wings. 

Uappily for the good cause, and fortunately for the des- 
tinies of our country, the intrigue proved abortive. The army 
under \Vashiugton, the good people of the Ignited States, and 
even the soldiers of General Gates, rejected with honest dis- 
dain the idea of a change. There was that in the character of 
the great Father of his Country which led confidence captive, 
something that, like the charmed armour of romance, blunted 
the sharpest weapon of calumny, and warded otV the poisoned 
arrow. He had gained a fame which even misfortune could 
not injure. CJeneral Gates received the command of the force 
destined to act against Lord C'ornwallis in the south, where 
his success did not justify the anticipations of his friends, or 
his enemies. He died at New-York, long after the revolution, 
and those who best knew him wondered at the caprices of 
fortune. 

The news of the capture of Durgoyne was received in Eng- 
land with dismay, in France with exultation. The venerable 
Chatham once more raised his voice for an immediate cessa- 
tion of arms, and broke forth into a strtiin of vehement and 
inspiring eloquence against the cruelty of associating savages 
in the warfare of civilued nations. ''My lords," said he 



tlWE QP WAHrJINOTON. 141 

" who JH the man that, in addition to the disgraceH and miH* 
chi(;fH of thiH war, haH dar<;d to authori/c and aHMOciato with 
our armH tlio tomaliawk and Hcaiping-kniff! of the; Havago? to 
call into civilized alliance the wild and inhuman inhabitantM 
of th(! woodn ? to delc'gatu to the rnorcilfjHH Indian the defcnco 
of diHpiiti.'d rightH, and to wagtj thf; liorrorH of hJH barharouH 
warfaro agairiHt our brethren?" Hut the voice of humanity, 
patriotinm, and inHpiration full on the ears of the deaf. The 
miuiHt(!rH carried th(;ir meaHure by the uHual majority, and 
corruption and vengeance triumphed for a while longer over 
juHtice aH well an policy. 

During the wevero winter which followed the eventw I have 
related, tlif; army of WaHhingtoii, rpiartered at Valley Forge^ 
in the noighhourliood of I'liiladelphia, Huffered almost incredi- 
ble hardHhipH. Since the battle of I3randywine, they had re- 
ceived neither Hoap, vinegar, or any other articles allowed by 
CongreHH for neceHHary comfort. A large portion had but a 
Hhirt, and Home none at all. Many were confined to the hoH- 
j)italn becauHe they had no HJioen, and between two or three 
thouHand remained inca[)aljle of duty becauHe "they were 
barefooted and otherwine naked." Tlieir food waH often in- 
Hufilcient, and of bad quality; and, in HJiorfc, they were dewti- 
tute of all thoHe corafortH which conduce to phywical strength and 
mental j)Ower. 

All thirt while they were within a few niileH of a Huperior 
force, and without the excitement of ho[)e ; for the proHpect of 
the future- Hcerned but a rellection of the prcHent. Can wo 
wonde-r, my young countrymen, that these poor, naked, starv- 
ing HoldierH of freedom pined to return to their comfortable 
homen ? or can we blame* tliem, if, when their term of Berrice 
expired, they were unwilling to enlist again ? Is it a Bubject 
of Hurpriwe or reproach that under theH<i accumulated circum- 
HtanceH of disicouragement and wuffering, the patriotic spirit of 
the people almost perished under its burden, or that it became 



Mf IIFK or WAIHINOTON. 

difRoult to roQM ani) animate the miUtia, or iu9pii-« tliem with 
confulenco? For my part, so far from conjuring our fathers 
for their wnut of spirit and nctivit)', 1 oauuot but roverence 
and admin^ that uobU^ tirmnoss, wliii'li, auimntod by tlio Kiveof 
liberty, rt^sistod tho prossuro of such a weight of woes, and re- 
fused all otTers of pardon or conciliation unaccompanied by in- 
dei)i>udeuce. Lot my youuf? ivadora ponder on these things, 
and then ask of themselves, who shall east the tii-st stone at 
tlio tombs of their fatheM ? Let them imitate their virtues, in- 
stead of oensuriniT their memory. May Trovidence ^rnnt that 
the posterity of these nuieh euduvint!: men may emulate their 
patriotism, and then the fivedom they won for us will never 
be surreudeivd at the shrine of luxury or on the altar of fear. 

The sutVerings of the army, now, as on all occasions, pierced 
the bosom of NVashington. In addition to this source of an- 
guish, his proud spirit, conscious of meriting the gratitude of 
his country by every exertion of valour and of virtue, had to 
bear up against certain slights of Congress, and certain cen- 
suivs elsewhere, that indicated a want of coutideuce. Of these 
he however took no notice. He had higher objects than his 
own feelings to demand his attention; and continued to urge 
on the attention of (.'ongivss the sutVerinsrs of his poor soldiers* 
who on one occasion wert^ without a single ration. With all 
the energy of true feeling, and with a manly coutidence in his 
owni claims to be heard and i"espected, he exhorted Congress 
to remedy the defects of tho commissary department, where 
these wants principally originated ; and, with the boldness of 
truth, lays the blame where it ought to rest. 

" I declare," said he, in one of his lettei"s — " T deelai-e, that 
no man. in my opinion, ever had his measuivs moiv impeded 
than I have by every department of the array. Since the 
month of July we have had no assistance from the quarter- 
master-general ; and to Avant of assistance fnjm this dejiart- 
ment the commisgary-general charges great part of bis de- 



LIPK 01? WA»HIK(»TON. 143 

ficiency. To this I may add, that notwithstanding it i« a itand- 
in>? ordfjr, often rcpftJittid, that th<! troopH Bhall alway« liave 
two dayfi' ratioiiH in advance, that tli(;y may be ready at any 
«uddf!n call, yet scarcely any opportunity has ever ofrenid of 
takinjif advantage of the enemy that has not been either entirely 
*hwart(;d, or gr(>atly obstructed, on that account." 

f.'ongress had fallen into the common error of inexperience, 
in complicating rather than simplifying the organization of the 
commissariat of the army. It was tlie fashion to establish a 
board for every thing, and to create a number of separate 
wheels, (.-ach one in some degree inde[»endent of the other, and 
therefore each liable to impede the action of the whole. So far 
was this pernicious practice carried, that, on one occasion* 
when the establishment of a whole raft of boards had been 
proposed by some busy-body in Congress, it is related that the 
late Judge Peters, of Pennsylvania, then a member, rose, and 
with gravity moved that the word "board" should be expunged, 
and that of" shingle" inserted in it place. It is said tliat tlie» 
amendment was fatal to the bill, and achieved what no argu- 
ment could have accomplished. Jt'rom tliat time the very men- 
tion of boards excited a smile in Congress. 

Ijosides the privations of the army, which have been just 
specified, they had now to encounter a new enemy, in the de- 
preciation of paper-money, that traitor to its country in tim e 
of danger. This depreciation, slow at first, soon acquired an 
accelerated motion, and, like a wheel running down hill, it« 
speed increased in proportion as it reached the bottom. The 
officers and soldiers soon began to find that they were paid, 
if at all, in paper which was losing its value while passing 
from the hand to the pocket. 

Experience has more than once demonstrated the ruinouB 
consequences of a resort to the issue of paper-money on the 
partof a government. The mischievous facility of multiplying 
it; the effect that multiplication han on the price* of all the 



144 LIPK OP WASHINSTON. 

necessaries of life niul (lu« moana of coaducting military ope-» 
rations; the lluctualions in its value, arising fron\ the increase 
or diminution of jiublic confidence ; and the certainty of its 
final depreciation, Avhen that depreciation will surely be most 
pernicious to the interests of the public and to individuals, all 
seem to demonstrate that it is an expedient which only a 
stern necessity can justify. That necessity presented itself 
at the crisis of our revolution. The public liberty, the exist- 
ence of the nation, was at stake, and the sacrifice of the 
future was due io the present emergency. But its conse- 
quences proved ruinous to many thousands in the end, and 
tliB catastrophe of the '' continental money," as it was called, 
remains as an example and a warning to future generations. 
The extravagance of the parent, which beggars his children, 
is not more reprehensible than that of a government whicli 
entails its burdens on the posterity of its citizens, and thus 
makes them responsible for its mistakes, its ambition, and its 
prodigality. 

lu the account of his expenditures during the revolutionary 
war, presented by M'ashington to the auditor-general of the 
I'^nited States, tliere is exhibited a curious scale of the pro- 
gress in the depreciation of jniper-money, according to the 
rates from time to time established by Congress, which vainly 
attempted to regulate this impracticable medium. From the 
beginning of the year 1777, when it was first issued, it re- 
mained at par value, and was equal to silver and gold until 
the October following, when it began to depreciate, at first 
slowly, then more rapidly. At the close of the following year 
two thousand paper dollars Avere worth three hundred and 
fourteen in specie; in November, 17j^0, one thousand paper 
dollars were worth twenty-five in specie; in May, 1781, 
twenty thousand paper dollars were worth five hundred ia 
specie ; and by the end of that year they were worth nothing. 
The confidence of the people in the government apd in each 



LIFK OP WASHINQTON. l4fi 

other wao universally shaken ; the idea of having been de- 
ceived hy tlieir ruleiH produced resentment and disufiection ; 
the ignorant and confiding became the dupen of the wary and 
unprincipled ; hundreds of thousands of citizens were reduced 
to beggary; and thus the miseries of want were added to the 
evils of war. 

Yet still, notwithstanding these appalling difliculties, Wash- 
ington did not for a moment remit his exertions. Being au- 
thorized by a resolution of (!oiigresH, ho directed that all the 
provisioiia wiUiin twenty miles of his camp should be seized 
for the use of his army. The expedient procured a temporary 
supply, but was soon rendered inoperative by the fanners con- 
cealing their products, and pleading entire poverty, 

There are jwints beyond which human nature cannot be 
safely puslied. A single individual may be found willing to 
give away all to his country, but such sacrifices cannot be 
expected from whole communities. 

In spite of tliese accumulated obstacles, Washington opened 
tlie campaign with his usual activity. (General Howe, either 
ignorant of the deplorable state of the republican army, too 
cautious in his movements, or jxThaps overawed by the su- 
perior genius of Washington, and recollecting that while 
storming his camp at Valley Forge he might be marching into 
Philadel[)hia, neglected to take advantage of the present state 
of affairs. By so doing he lost an opportunity which never 
afterwards presented itself to him or hi-i successors. The 
events which immediately followed the opening of the cam- 
paign of 177H, not being either striking or decisive, will be 
[)ass((d over, especially as Washington was not personally en- 
gaged in them. 

The proceedings of the British parliament now became ex- 
ceedingly interesting. Not long after the rejection of Lord 
Chatham's motion for a suspeusiou of arms between Eoglaud 
a 



]4f5 LirK UK WA8H1H«T0N. 

and the United States, and a like fate of oiliers of a Bimilar 
nature, the Britieh luiuisfer, Lord North, hiniBelf brought for- 
ward a plan of paciticatiou, which was adopted by a great 
majority. Before, however, the preliminary steps could be 
taken, the news arrived in England of a treaty of alliance 
having been concluded between the United Statts and France. 
The propositions were in consequence hui-ried off to America, 
in the hope of preceding the arrival ol' the treaty. 

Washington received the bill of pacification, and immediate- 
ly forwarded it to Congress, with a letter expressing his fears 
of its consetiuences, if the conditions became known to the peo- 
ple. The propositions of the British government were referred 
to a committee, which made an able and spirited report on the 
subject, and exposed, with the keenest analysis, its unsatis- 
factory, insidious, and insulting provisions. The propositions 
of parliament, and the report of the committee of Congress 
were both published. Soon after this occurred, a French fri- 
gate arrived having on board Mr. Der.ne, bearing the treaty 
between the United States and the French king. This event 
was hailed with joy throughout the whole country, as the pre- 
lude of a certain su(;cessful issue to the cause of independence. 

General Howe had now taken his departure for England, 
whither he carried with him but little glory. He was an ex- 
perienced officer in European tactics, but wanted energy, en- 
terprise, and activity, and was utterly unable to cope with 
Washington, who, if he had possessed the means which the 
former commanded, would have quickly annihilated him. 

General Charles Lee, who had more wit than discretion, 
thus describes Ilowe in a letter to Dr. Rush : — " He is the 
most indolent of mortals. He never took further pains to 
examine the merits or demerits of the cause in which he was 
engaged, than merely to recollect that Great Britain was said 
to be the mother country ; George the Third, King of Great 
Britain; that parliament was called the representative of 



J 



hlWM OF WA3BlNC(TOM. 147 

Great Britain ; that the king and parliament formed the su- 
preme power ; that supreme power is absolute aud uncon- 
trollable; that all resistance must consequently be rebellion; 
and, above all, that he was a soldier, and bound to obey in all 
cases whatever. 

" These are his notions, and this is his logic. But through 
these absurdities I could distinguish, when he was left to him- 
self, rays of friendship and good-nature breaking out- It is 
true he was seldom left to himself; for never poor mortal, 
thrust into liigh station, was surrounded by such fools and 
scoundrels. I believe he scarcely ever read the letters he 
signed. You will hardly believe it, but I assure you it is a 
fact that he never read the curious proclamation issued at the 
head of Elk, till three days after it Was published. You will 
say I am drawing my friend Howe in caricature ; but this is 
his real character, lie is naturally good-humoured and com- 
placent, but illiterate and indolent to the last degree, unless 
as an executive soldier, in whioli capacity he is all fire and 
activity, brave and cool us Julius Caesar. His understanding 
is rather good than otherwise, but was totally confounded and 
stupified by the immensity of the task imposed upon him. He 
shut his eyes, fought his battles, drank his bottle, advised with 
his counsellors, received orders from North and Germaine, one 
more absurd than the other, took Galloway's opinion, shut his 
eyes, fought again, and is now, I suppose, to be called to ac- 
count for acting according to his instructions." 

He was succeeded in his command by Sir Henry Clinton, 
also an officer of experience and reputation. But none ever 
gained lasting laurels at the expense of Washington, and least 
of all, Sir Henry Clinton. The alliance with France, and itb 
anticipated consequences, rendered an entire change of mea- 
sures necessary on the part of the enemy, aud the new com- 
mander prepared to evacuate Philadelphia, with a view to 
concentrating his force at New York. 



143 LitK Ob' WASHXNUTON. 

This design was executed, and the enemy marched through 
New Jersey, with Washington hanging on his rear, eager to 
strike a blow. He had so long been harassed by the necessitj' 
of perpetually retreating, that the idea of pursuit animated 
liim to new exertions and new vigour. At length the lion 
had turned on his pursuerH, and almost for the first time since 
he assumed the command, could Washington indulge the bias 
of his temper, which ever prompted him to decisive action. 
His caution was the result of judgment and necessity, and 
every backward step he took was like bending the bow the 
wrong way. It went against the grain. 

Now, however, the tables were somewhat turned. Though 
still actually inferior in force, he was equal in numbers, and 
hoped most ardently that Sir Henry Clinton would afford him 
an opportunity of attacking him in his march through New 
Jersey, He proposed the question to a council of officers, 
where it was strenuously opposed by Steuben, Du Portail, and 
General Lee. But this did not deter him, and he resolved that 
the enemy should not escape without a blow, if an opening for 
striking it occurred. That opportunity soon presented itself 
and was seized with avidity. 

The march of Sir Henry Clinton was directed towards Mid- 
dletown, from whence he intended to embark his army for 
New-York, and had now arrived at Monmouth, a small town 
situated on high ground, not far distant from the bay of Amboy> 
and presenting a strong position. Another day's march would 
bring him to the heights of Middletown, where he would be 
unassailable. This, then, was the last opportunity that might 
present it?elf, and Washington determined to avail himself of 
it in despite of the opinions of the council of officers. 

Accordingly he made his dispositions for an attack the mo- 
ment Sir Henry Clinton moved from the high ground at Mon- 
mouth, and General Lee was directed to assault his rear, while 



tlPK OP WASHINGTON; 149 

the remainder of the republican army opposed him on his 
flanks. 

The twenty-eighth of June, the day on which this battle 
was fought, was intensely hot. There was not a breath of air 
stirring, and the sun shone out without a cloud, making the 
bayonets and musket-barrels glitter in the eyes of the opposing 
hosts. The domestic herds had retired into the shade, and 
every animal except man sought shelter from the burning heat. 
The panting soldiers could hardly bear up against the burden 
of their arms, and the horses that drew the artillery were in a 
foam. The very birds forgot to sing their songs that morning. 

At the dawn of day the army of the enemy had taken up its 
line of march towards the heights of Middletown, and left the 
strong position at Monmouth. Washington, hearing a firing, 
presumed that Lee was now engaged, and came rushing on to 
gecond him, when, to his utter astouishmeut, he found that of- 
ficer in full retreat. 

" In the name of God, General Lee, what lias caused this 
ill-timed prudence ?" said Washington. 

" I know no man bl ssed with a larger portion of that ras- 
cally virtue than your excellency," retorted Lee, sarcastically. 

Washington rode on furiously, for now, for once in his life, 
ill-conduct, aggravated by insolence, had conquered his equa- 
nimity. He called to his men, and they answered his call with 
three gallant cheers. He ordered them to charge the enemy, 
and they obeyed him without hesitating a moment. The roy- 
alists attempted to turn his flank, but were manfully repulsed. 
They turned in another direction, and met the valiant, steady 
Greene, who drove them back with his cannon, while on the 
instant, Wayne, at the head of his legion, gave them such a 
severe and well-directed fire, that they ceased to act on the 
offensive, and took post in their stronghold once more. The 
extreme heat of the day, together with their exertions in the 
fight, had exhausted the vigour of both parties ; some died of 



150^ LIPR OF WASHINGTON. 

mere fatigue, and othere fell victimH to their engerness to allay 
their burning thirst with cold water. "SVa^hington ordered 
his soldiers to be pre]iared for renewing the action early in 
the morning ; but when that came, he found that the British 
had decamped in the silence of the night, and were now so 
far on their way to Middletown Heights as to destroy all 
hopes of overtaking them, or preventing their embarkation. 

On no occaHion during the whole course of the war, did 
Washington appear greater that at the battle of Monmouth. 
The extraordinary retreat of Lee, and hia subsequent inso- 
lence, had roused hini to the highest point of energy, and 
awakened all the heroism of his character. He animated his 
troops by his voice ; he inspired them by his actions, and in- 
fased the magnanimity of his own soul into the souls of his 
gallant troops. He exposed himself to every danger of the 
day, and seemed determined to make up by his own exertions 
for the misconduct of the arrogant Lee. One* who always 
fought by his side, when higher duties did not call him away, 
has since borne testimony that the spirit which animated, and 
the genius which directed, the successful operations of this 
gallant battle, was that of Washington. Greene, Wa)me, 
Morgan, and many others distinguished themselves highly on 
this occasion, and richly merit to share with him the honour 
of that day. They were the well-tempered weapons, but his 
was the soul that directed them. The enemy claimed the 
victory on this occasion ; hut a victory succeeded by midnight 
retreat is hardly worth contesting. 

The republican army was indignant at the conduct of Lee, 
and his disrespect, to give it its mildest name, to their beloved 
chief, called forth a burst of feeling in behalf of his insulted dig- 
nity and virtue. Wastiington, however, was silent on the sub- 
ject. He was aware of the mischiefs arising from factions in an 



ZiIFB or WASH1N<»T0N» Ifilf 

arnjy, and probably exi)octe(l an apology or explanation from 
the ojl'ender. Ihit tlie subHecpumt eteiw taken by Leo precluded 
all further forbearance. He received a letter from that officer, 
couched in tlie niont haughty and supercilioua terniH, and de-» 
mauding reparation for *' the very singular cxpresHions" mado 
use of by Washington on the occasion to which I have ro- 
A'rred. To this a reply was sent, assuring hin) that, if he felt 
himself aggrieved, he should soon have an opportunity of vin- 
dicating his conduct before a court-inarliiil. Ho was accord- 
ingly tried sliortly after for disobedience of orders, for misbe- 
haviour before the enemy, and for disrespect to the commander- 
in-chief. The sentence of the court suspended him from duty 
for one year, and was unanimously approved by (Jongress. — 
This terminated his military career, lie retired to his estate 
in IJerkeley county, Virginia, whore he lived a few years of 
folly and eccentricity, and liually, at IMiiladelphia, closed a 
life which he might have mado useful by his talents, had they 
been directed by the steadiness, prudence, and wiwdom of 
Washington. 

(General (Jharles I,eo was a native of ( 'hester county, in 
England, and descended from an ancient family of that name- 
He entered the British service, commanded a company of gre- 
nadiers at Ticonderoga, in the old French war, where he was 
shot through tlie body. He afterwards served in I'ortugal 
under fJeneral Hurgoyne, and subsecpiently in the I'olish army, 
where he was at the period of the passing of the stamp act. — 
He then returned to Etigland, and used all his influence in be- 
half of the colonies. Shortly before the commencement of 
hostilities, he arrived at Now York, and enlisted himself 
among the most ardent of the Whigs. After visiting all the 
large cities, and making himself known to the principal poli- 
tical leaders, by his ardour and eloquence in the cause of 
liberty, he purchased a plantation in Berkeley coaqty, Virgi- 



162 IIFK OF wA6HIH«fT6N. 

nia, near his old friead Horatio Gates, with whom he had 
served in days of yore. 

One of the worst consequences of the colonial state is, the 
feeling and habit of inferiority which it never fails to produce 
on the part of the colonists. Treated, as they always are, by 
the mother country, with arrogant superciliousness, or stem 
unkindness ; deprived of all the privileges of equality : accus- 
tomed to see every day instances of preference towards the 
natives of the parent state, and to submit to their assumptions 
of superiority, they gradually acquire a dependent feeling, and 
in time acquiesce in a degrading distinction, which overawes 
their spirit, and depresses their genius. 

This was, in a great degree, the state of the public mind at 
the period when the people of the United Colonies felt them- 
selves called upon to accept the alternative of submission or 
resistance. They cherished exaggerated ideas of European, 
and most especially British, superiority ; and when it became 
necessary to take up arms in defence of their rights, to have 
served in the British army was the great recommendation to 
rank and honours. Hence, while Green, Wayne, Morgan, and 
many others on whom nature had bestowed the talents for 
command, entered the service as inferior officers, such men as 
Gates and Lee were appointed to the highest stations in the 
army, without doubt because they were born in England, and 
had borne a British commission. With the exception of Wash- 
ington, it was thought next to impossible to find a native of 
the colonies capable of directing extensive military operations; 
and the history of our revolution sufficiently exemplifies the 
existence of this sentiment, in the all but successful intrigue 
to place General Gates in a situation for which he was greatly 
disqualified, and where his incapacity would in all probability 
have ruined our cause. 

This feeling of inferiority depressed the energies and dis- 
couraged the efforts of the Americans during the whole 



tlPE OF ^ASHIK^fTON. 153 

struggle for liberty. It damped their ardour, and checked 
their enterprise; it weakened their confidence in them- 
selves, and at all times operated as a nightmare upon 
their visions of success. It outlived the era of Indepen- 
dence, and it lives still, though with diminished, and gradu- 
ally diminishing vigour. It no longer, indeed, plays the po- 
litical tyrant ; but it sways our opinions, insinuates itself into 
our social habits, influences our tastes, dress, and modes of 
living, and having resigned as prime minister of American 
affairs, continues still to govern by a sort of back-stairs influ- 
ence. I hope my youthful readers, who form the rising hope 
of their country, will live to see her emancipated from this last 
and strongest thraldom, and that they themselves will not only 
assist at its funeral but give it the death-blow. It is time 
that the people of the United States, who have long boasted 
of their superiority, should at least begin to feel that they are 
equal to other nations. 

This colonial prejudice operated in favour of Lee. He was 
offered and accepted the rank of major-general. Lee talked 
well, and wrote with a keen, sarcastic vigour, which is often 
mistaken for a capacity to perform great actions. But he 
never distinguished himself in the cause of freedom. He 
blamed Washington, he blamed Congress, and he blamed every- 
body ; but he did nothing himself When called upon by the 
commander-in-chief to march to his assistance at Trenton, in 
the darkest hour of peril, he delayed under various pretexts, 
and at length suffered himself to be surprised and taken pri- 
soner, in a manner that excited the contempt of his enemies 
and the laughter of his friends. It was suspected, and on 
grounds by no means destitute of probability, that he wished 
to ruin Washington in order to succeed him. His conduct at 
the battle of IMonmouth seemed to corroborate the suspicion, 
and without doubt operated on the court-martial to suspend 
G 5 



164 XIFK OF WA8HrN«T0N. 

him from service. His example furnishes a salutary warning 
against premature confidence, as well as a decisive proof that 
experience in one mode of warfare is only an obstacle to suc- 
cess in a new service and a new world. "Without doubt La- 
fayette, Montgomery, Kosciusko, De Kalb, Steuben, Pulaski, 
and various others of less distinction, performed important 
services to our cause, and aided in purchasing for us the bless- 
ings of liberty. They merit the lasting gratitude of the peo- 
ple of the United States, as well for what they did, as what 
they were anxious to do ; and they enjoy, in this new world, 
a reputation which amply repays them for all the services they 
ever rendered. Still, however, the best trust of a nation is in 
its own children, its own experience, and its own home-bred 
energies. Foreign aid may assist in attaining to independence, 
but it cannot be preserved, except by ourselves. It was, per- 
haps, fortunate for the United States that European policy and 
national rivalry were sufficiently strong to overcome the 
temptation to make them pay dear for the aid they received, 
and save them from the general fate of all those who call to 
their assistance an auxiliary more powerful than themselves. 



CHAPTER XII. 

Mopes derived from the new Posture of Affairs. Arrival of the French Fleet. 
DifflcuUics about Military Etiquette. Dispute between Count d'Estaing and 
General Sullivan. Washington still compelled to act on the Defensive. 
British Array marches up the Hudson. Affair at Egg Harbour. British Fleet 
dispersed by a storm. D'Estaing sails for the West Indies. The Army erects 
Huts in the Highlands and goes into winter-quarters. Washington's Spring. 
He dissuades Congress from attacking Canada. ~ 

The sun of liberty seemed now slowly emerging from the 
dark cloud in which it had been enveloped, with few inter- 
vals, ever since the battle of Long Island. It had occasion- 



riFK OF WASHtNftlON. 1S5 

ally broke out for a little while at Princeton and Trenton 
only to retire again into deeper obscruity. The surrender of 
Burgoyne the alliance with France, and the honourable re- 
sult of the battle of Monmouth combined to give new life to 
hope, but at the same time relaxed the vigour of perseverance. 
The storm seemed to have reached the crisis of its violence, 
and the lighthouse and the haven appeared in distant perspec- 
tive. The crew of the vessel fell asleep, and the pilot remained 
awake at the helm. 

The battle of Monmouth was quickly followed by news of 
the arrival of a powerful French fleet, under Count d'Estaing, 
at Chingoteague Inlet, in Virginia. On board this fleet was a 
large body of land forces, and the intention of the Count had 
been to strike the mouth of Delaware Bay, with a view to 
shutting up the British fleet in that river. A long passage of 
nearly three months prevented the success of this well-laid 
plan, and probably saved both the British fleet and British 
army. Congress communicated the arrival of our allies to 
Washington, and directed him to co-operate with the French 
commander. 

This co-operation was a delicate aflPair. Hitherto the French 
had always been looked upon as enemies by the people of the 
United States?. All their wars had been with that nation, and 
the recollection was rendered more keen by its connection 
with Indian atrocities. Besides this, there is always a 
jealousy, justified by universal example, on the part of 
weaker nations against their more powerful allies, who have 
almost invariably only assisted in breaking the chains of 
others in order to rivet their own. They always sell their 
favours at a high price. The French government, with a 
polite delicacy, had conferred on Washington the rank of 
lieutenant-general in the armies of France, which placed him 
on an equality with Count d'Estaing, who, besides being com- 
mander of the French fleet, was also a lieutenant-general. 



158 LIPB OP WASHING TON. 

The allied forces commenced their operations in New-Eng- 
land, where difficulties soon occurred in relation to military 
etiquette, and the right of directing the combined army. The 
rank of D'Estaing, as a lieutenant-general, placed him above 
every American officer except Washington ; and Sullivan, 
who commanded the forces of the United States in that 
quarter, being only a major-general, the French admiral in- 
sisted on hie right to command the combined attack on New- 
port. Sullivan, who had been cautioned by Washington 
against any collision in points of mere punctilio, proposed, and 
the French admiral assented to, an arrangement, by which the 
Americans were to precede him in landing, and the French 
troops to follow under the Count in person. The latter, how- 
ever, soon after declined to act in conformity with this stipu- 
lation, and insisted that the landing and the attack should be 
simultaneous. Other trifling punctilios impeded the first 
operations of the allies, and a spirit was excited which might 
have destroyed all the benefits of the French alliance, had not 
the appearance of a British fleet produced the necessity of a 
good understanding, or at least, for a time, separated the con- 
tending parties. D'Estaing determined on offering battle to 
the enemy ; but, previous to sailing, informed General Sulli- 
van that on returning he would accede to his wishes. Thus 
a feud, which might have had a most injurious effect on the 
future operations of the allies, was arrested before it had 
settled down into a confirmed spirit of opposition. 

But the consequences of these disputes remained festering 
in the bosoms both of the French and American officers, and 
operated on the hearts of the people of New England, who, 
more than all the rest, were disinclined towards France. 
Their early annals were filled with affecting instances of suf- 
fering inflicted on their forefathers by the inroads of the P'rench 
and Indians of Canada and the eastern border, and they had 
ever been accustomed to look upon them as their hereditary 



r.TCH OH" washinchon: 157 

enemicfl. Tho claims of D'Kstaing were, therefore, peculiarly 
grating to their recollections and their pride ; and at one time 
it was feared tht^y might go so far as to withliold supplies 
from the French fleet. Sullivan, too, indulged himself in some 
expressions, in a general order, which gave great ofience to 
D'Estaing, who appealed to Congress. That wise and tem- 
perate body passed a resolution approving his conduct, and 
expressing its confidence in his zeal and attachment to the 
cause ; and Washington, ever the instrument of good to his 
country, soothed his wounded feelings by letters, which oper- 
ated so effectually, that from that time to the final consum- 
mation of tho revolution at Yorktown, there was no other 
struggle between the French and Americans but that of cour- 
tesy and gallantry. But still, though the threatening storm 
was thus averted by a wise forbearance, the lesson is impor- 
tant, as showing that it is best for nations to fight their own 
battles in their own cause, and to depend for success on their 
single exertions, aided by the blessing of Heaven. But for 
the assistance of Fraace, the contest might have lasted, per- 
haps, a little longer ; but my firm conviction is, that the final 
issue would have been the same. In the words of the great 
Chatham, " Three millions of freemen, with arms in their 
hands, can never be conquered." 

Washington was now in New Jersey, watching with eagle 
eye, the movements of the British in New York. His old fate 
still pursued him. The British ministers, in anticipation of 
the consequences of the treaty of alliance between France and 
the United States, had reinforced their armies and navy to an 
extent that placed him again under the necessity of employing 
the shield instead of the sword in defence of his country. He 
was still compelled to ward off the blows of the enemy, rather 
than inflict them. All that was left him was to act the sleep- 
less watchman to the midnight plunderer . 

In the latter end of the month of September, the British 



Ifig LIPB OP WikSHINeTON. 

army, in two columiiB, one on either uide of the Hudson, 
moved up that river, sweeping all before them. The object 
of Washington -was now to secure the passes of the High- 
lands, and he accordingly held himself in readiness for that 
purpose. The enemy, however, after completing his foraging, 
returned to New York. It appeared that the design of this 
display on the Hudson was to cover an expedition to Egg 
Harbour, where a large quantity of merchandise and a num- 
ber of vessels were destroyed. The operations of the French 
fleet were all this time impeded by its inferiority to that of the 
British. The latter, however, while off the harbour of Boston, 
encountered a great storm, which caused its dispersion for a 
time, and D'Estaiag took the opportunity of sailing for the 
West Indies. 

Nothing of consecjuence occurred within the sphere of 
Washington's action until the close of the campaign. The 
enemy detached a large force to operate in the South during 
the winter, but sufficient remained for the protection of New 
York against all the efforts of Washington, who soon after- 
wards went into winter-quarters in the Highlands and the 
vicinity. 

Here the army erected huts, and breasted the wintry winds 
and storms of the mountains as well as they could. Though 
destitute of many comforts, and but indifferently clothed, 
their situation was so far preferable to that of the preceding 
winter at Valley Forge, that the contrast made them quite 
hapjjy and reconciled them to many privations. The remains 
of these huts are still to be seen in tlie Highlands ; and a 
spring, from which Washington used to drink, is consecrated 
to his name. It bubbles forth from the roots of a tree in a 
little grove of oaks, growing just at the brink of a beautiful 
cascade, which falls into a chrystal basin below, a descent of 
sixty or seventy feet. Its waters are much cooler than the 
surrounding springs ; and so beautifully clear as to afford no 



ttl-E OP WA8HIN€H0N. 159 

unapt emblem of the character of him who preferred them to 
all others. 

The last great service of Washington, during this year, was 
dissuading Congress from carrying into effect a magnificent 
plan for the ensuing campaign. This was no less than the 
conquest of Canada, which had always been a favourite object 
ever since the commencement of the war. This shenie was 
fraught with consequences which might, and probably would, 
have gone far to ruin our cause. The bloody plains of Abra- 
ham attest the difficulties of such an enterprise; and in all 
probability the waning resources necessary to the safety of 
the states, would have been wasted on a hopeless enterprise, 
Avhich even if it had succeeded, would have had no decisive 
influence on the result of the great struggle in which we were 
engaged. 

The first intimation that this plan had been decided on, was 
received by "Washington in a letter from Congress, desiring 
him to write to Franklin, then minister at Paris, to endeavour 
to induce the court of France to aid in its execution. Instead 
of complying with this request, he addressed a letter to that 
body, couched in the most respectful terms, yet detailing, with 
manly firmness, the difficulties in the way of this wild project, 
and offering such unanswerable reasons against all probability 
of success, that it was promptly abandoned. Thus every- 
where, at all times, and in all situations, did Washington 
prove the guardian of his country. 



160 LIFE OF WAiHIN«ION. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

Consequencei of the Alliance with France. Remission of activity on th« part 
of Congress and the People. The British Ministers roused to new exertions. 
Incitements of Washington to Vigilance and Preparation. Wants and disaf- 
fection of the Troops. Mutiny of the Conneetiaut Line. Overtures for 
Pacification rejected by Congress. Massacre of Wyoming. Capture of 
Stony Point. General Wayne. The Tide of War flows toward the South. 

One of the ill consequences almost alwaj's attending a re- 
liance on the assistance of others, is a remission of our own 
exertions. Self-dependence, united with a lirm belief in the 
justice of our cause, and the consetiuent aid of the Being 
whose great attribute is to side with the right, are the best 
foundations for success in every honourable pursuit. The mo- 
ment of the treaty of alliance with France was the crisis of 
greatest danger to the cause of liberty. 1 am strongly inclined 
to think that this event did not greatly accelerate the inde- 
pendence of the United States, since it gave them a ground of 
hope distinct from a reliance on their own eftbrts and re- 
sources. They now considered their cause beyond the reach 
of ruin, and from that moment seem to have remitted their 
exertions to arrest its destruction. 

Independently of this pernicious consequence of almost all 
foreign alliances, the connection with France without doubt 
aggravated the offences of her former subjects in the eyes of 
the English ministers, and, above all, in those of the people of 
England. It was a new effort of disobedience, which entailed 
on Great Britain a war with France, and finally with Spain 
and Holland. The necessity of the case, and the feeling of in- 
digrnation, combined to produce new and more vigorous ef- 
forts, and the result of the French alliance was an augmenta- 
tion of the British force in this country which more than coun- 



LtVU OV WA8HIN(^T0N, 161' 

terbalanced that of France. During the whole of the two 
succeeding campaigns, Washington was obliged to act on the 
defensive with diminished means ; and there were times when 
the prospect of a successful termination of the great struggle 
for liberty, was more gloom j'^ if possible than it ever had been 
before. That issue still, as it ever did, depended not on the 
will or the interests of rival despots, but on Washington, the 
countrymen of Washington, and the great Being who inspired 
him with virtue, talents, and courage to save his country. 

During all this while, thougli deprived by the apathy of the 
states and the people, who now dreamed their independence 
secure, of the means of active service, he continued to be the 
guardian of tlieir safety. He lost no opportunity to urge his 
impressive warnings against the dangers of this false security ; 
he conjured them to resist the delusions of a too sanguine 
hope ; he called upon them loud and often to prepare for fu- 
ture and inevitable misfortune, if they continued to rely on 
others alone; and with the wisdom of inspiration foretold, 
that, if they fell asleep in the cradle of this false security, they 
would be awakened to dismay and destruction. 

A minute detail of the military operations in which Washing* 
ton was personally concerned, is not within the compass of 
my design, and those which took place in the two following 
years are in themselves inconsiderable. The army was suf- 
fered to dwindle away until it amounted to less than three 
thousand ; the depreciation of that miserable substitute for 
value, paper-money, followed by its total annihilation as a 
medium for procuring the comforts and necessaries of life, and 
the consequent inability of Congress to pay even this small 
army, produced the most disastrous consequences. Disaffec- 
tion spread among the troops ; the Connecticut Line mutinied > 
and the farmers, having lost all faith in the ability of Con- 
gress to pay for their produce, refused to trust any longer in 
the promises of that body. It is within the knowledge of the 



1$2 LTVB OF WASHINGTON. 

writer, that the army in the Highlands would have been at 
times destitute of provisions, had not the then deputy com- 
missary-general pledged his personal credit to the farmers of 
Westchester and Dutchess counties. By this act of patriotism 
he served the cause at the expense of his own ruin. 

During this period, also, the British ministry made another 
attempt at conciliating the United States. Commissioners 
were appointed, and preliminaries discussed; but as nothing 
was said about an acknowledgement of independence, the ne- 
gociation entirely failed, as in all previous cases. Disappointed 
in this, the commissioners resorted to corruption, and attempts 
were made to bribe certain leading members of Congress. — 
Here too they failed. That illustrious body could neither be 
cajoled, threatened, or bought. It was on an occasion which 
occurred about this time that, in reply to the offer of a large 
sum of money, the president of Congress, General Reed, ut- 
tered a sentiment worthy the best days of Greece or Rome. — 
" I am poor," said he, " very poor, but your king is not rich 
enough to buy me." It is by such examples of virtue that na- 
tions become illustrious, and the most humble citizens im- 
mortal. 

Among the military events that occurred during the period 
of which I am Avriting, the most affecting and best remem- 
bered is the destruction of Wyoming, and the massacre of the 
inhabitants of that beautiful valley. All accounts agree in 
painting this secluded region as the abode of peace, innocence, 
and happiness. If ever there was a community whose harm- 
jessness might have disarmed hostility, and whose rural hap- 
piness would have excited sympathy rather than envy, it seems 
to have been the people of the little settlement of Wyoming. 
They had never joined in the Avar, and were as incapable of 
injuring the enemy, as they wei'e of defending themselves. — 
But a band of savage Indians, and of whit« men as savage ae 
they, rushed upon them in tiie nilencp of the dawn ; their de- 



IIFR OF WASHINGTON. 163 

fenders, who had come to their assistance, were overpowered, 
and massacred in cold blood ; the fruitful fields were made 
desolate, the houses burnt to the ground, and the valley long 
after remained a desert. Neither age nor sex was spared, and 
nothing left behind but ruins and bleaching bones. It was a 
scene that disgraced humanity itself; and though pains have 
been taken to cast the stigma alone on the savages, nothing 
can wash away the guilt of having paid and employed them in 
a service that led to such merciless doings. The tale is con- 
secrated to the remembrance of posterity, in history and long- 
lived song, and the fate of Wyomjng will never be forgotten. 
Other atrocities occurred in different quarters, and almost 
everywhere on the exposed frontier the tomahawk and scalp- 
ing-knife were at work upon the heads and hearts of our suf- 
fering countrymen. 

Another event more gratifying to the pride and vanity of 
my youthful readers, which took place in the following year, 
was the capture of Stony Point, by General Wayne, one of the 
most gallant exploits of the war. Anthony Wayne was a na- 
tive of Chester county, in the state of Pennsj'lvania. He en- 
tered the army about the commencement of the revolutionary 
war, with the rank of colonel, and very soon acquired the re- 
putation of a gallant soldier. He was raised to the rank of 
brigadiei'-general, and was engaged in several actions, in 
which, though occasionally unfortunate, he always conducted 
himself with singular bravery. There was not an officer in 
the American army of a higher character for intrepidity ; and 
whenever there was any hard fighting, Wayne was pretty cer- 
tain to be selected by Washington to bear a part. He distin- 
guished himself by several victories over the British and In- 
dians at the South ; and such was the estimation which the 
state of Georgia placed on his services, that a valuable plan- 
tation was granted him by an act of her legislature. His last 
and greatest exploit was that of totally defeating the Indians 



164 UFE OP WASHINGTON. 

on the Miami, after they had gained two successive victories 
over Ilarmer and St. Clair. This decisive action paved the 
way for the treaty of Greenville, and for ever freed that por- 
tion of our frontier from Indian depredations. He died at 
Presque Isle, on Lake Erie, leaving behind him a reputation 

second to none of his contemporaries for valour and intrepi- 
dity. 

To this gallant officer Washington committed the storming 
of Stony Point. He had in view an attack on the enemy's posts 
at and about King's Ferry, which he decided to take in detail 
rather than risk a general system of operations, which the 
failure of a single link might render ineffectual. Stony Point 
was one of the most inaccessible of these, and in addition to 
its natural strength, was defended by six hundred of the 
enemy, under Colonel Johnson. It was intended to take it by 
surprise, and for that purpose the hour of midnight was chosen 
for the attack. 

The night came, and at the appointed hour the little band 
marched in dead silence to execute their dangerous purpose. 
There was but one way of a])proachiug this strong position, 
and that was over a narrow causeway, crossing a marsh. 
They advanced without speaking a single word, with un- 
loaded muskets and fi>ed bayonets, preceded by the forlorn 
hope, consisting of two parties of twenty men each, one com- 
manded by Lieutenant Gibbon of Virginia, and other by 
Lieutenant Knox. They gained the works without being dis- 
covered ; for the enemy little dreamed of an attempt on their 
strong position. A few minutes after twelve the attack com- 
menced ; the Americans dashed forward under a heavy fire, which 
nothing daunted the brave soldiers ; they fired not a single gun 
in return, but carried the fort at the point of the bayonet, with 
the loss of about one hundred killed and wounded. Of these, 
seventeen were of the party of twenty under Lieutenant Gib- 



IIFB OF VTASHINQTON. 165 

bon. The loss of the enemy was sixty-three killed, and up- 
wards of five hundred prisoners. 

This was a glorious affair for the victors. The s mallness of 
the numbers engaged does not diminish but increase the gal- 
lantry of the actors, since courage is often gained from num- 
bers, and cowards frequently become bold from being sur- 
rounded by hosts of friends. Every man of this little party 
behaved nobly. Wayne received a slight wound in the head, 
which stunned him for a few minutes; but, supported by his 
aides, on either side, he continued at his post, and entered the 
fort with the foremost of his companions. Colonel Fleury, 
Major Posoy, Lieutenants Gibbon and Knox, equally distin- 
guished themselves, and their names are preserved among the 
gallants spirits who in the hour of peril deserved well of the 
country. 

This affair recalled the attention of Sir Henry Clinton from 
Connecticut, whither he had sent an expedition under Governor 
Tryon, and he advanced up the Hudson towards the Highlands, 
where he repossessed himself of Stoney Point. Finding, how- 
ever, that he could not attack "Washington with any chance of 
success, in the strong position he occupied. Sir Henry fell 
back upon New York, and devoted his attention to the affairs 
of the South, whither the tide of war was now flowing. 



166 LIFE OF WASHINOTON 



CHAPTER XIV. 

state of the South. Marion. Anecdote. Situation of the Northern Army. 
Firmnes* and Patriotism of the Army and People. Effects of the French 
Alliance. Paper-money. Defects of the Military Establishment. Disposi* 
tion to Mutiny. Resolution of the Officers to Resign. Prevented by the 
Influence of Washington. Bank in Philadelphia. Patriotism of American 
Women. Expostulation of Washington with Congress. Incursion of the 
Enemy into New Jersey, and noble conduct of the Jersey Blues. Washing- 
ton. Clinton comes from the South. Invades New Jersey, and retires.' 
Arrival of a French Fleet and Army. Operations in consequence. Close 
of the Campaign. 

The states to the south of the Potomac had early partaken in 
the sufferings of the war. ^^irgiuia had been ravaged by Dun- 
more ; North Carolina, South Carolina, and Georgia had not 
escaped. South Carolina, most especiallj', had partaken of 
more than her full share. Many of the inhabitants of that 
state were loyalists, and bore an inveterate hatred, not only 
to the cause of liberty, but to all its supporters. Internal 
fires burned within the bosom of the state, while the flames 
raged on its borders. The British, probably instigated and 
exasperated by the representations of the tories, repaid the 
wrongs alleged to have been inflicted on their friends, by re- 
taliating with still greater severity. At one time the enemy 
even flattered himself that the southern states were conquered. 
But there was still a spirit stirring within their bosoms, which 
might be repressed for a while, but could not be subdued. The 
flame of liberty was kept alive i;i the pine-barrens, the 
swamps, and the mountains, by Fickens, and Sunipter, and 
Huger, and Horry. Above all, there was Marion, who, when 
all seemed lost, retired to the woods, and with a few fol- 
lowers, worthy of such a leader, kept the war alive, when 
scarcely a spark was lelt to kindle it into a flame. 



llfK OF WASHINQTON. 167 

Among the fine spirits of the revolution, there were few 
whose character and services are more worthy of remem- 
brance and admiration than those of Francis Marion. He 
was a man of great talents as well as great courage. His 
patriotism was warm and thrilling, and his love of liberty- 
unconquerable. After the fall of Charleston, Tarlton and his 
myrmidons insulted and ravaged the lower parts of the state 
almost with impunity ; and the tories became imboldened 
to new acts of ill-neighbourhood, if not of inhumanity, to 
their unfortunate countrymen. Their houses were burned, 
their plantations laid waste, and their wives, mothers, and 
daughters insulted and abused. There was no force that 
could make head against external and internal enemies, and 
the country lay at their mercy. 

In this situation the services of Marion were invaluable. 
Patient of fatigue, and capable of enduring every privation ; 
intrepid and cautious ; quick and persevering ; a soldier and 
a philosopher: he never remitted his exertions to sustain 
what remained of the liberties of his country, nor ever de- 
spaired of her cause. Collecting together a little band of 
hardy and active spirits, he retired into the inaccessible 
swamps where he watched his opportunity, darted out on his 
enemies, struck his blow, and before it was known whence 
he came, was safe in his woods again. Within his sphere, he 
might be said to have carried on a war of his own, for the 
State authorities were distant, inaccessible, and almost 
destitute of power. His mode of subsisting himself and his 
soldiers is affectingly illustrated by the following striking 
anecdote derived fi'om an old fellow- soldier of Marion, many 
years ago. 

While occupying one of the fastnesses, in the midst of a 
swamp, a British officer with a flag, proposing an exchange 
of prisoners, was one day brought blindfold to his camp. The 
exploits of Marion had made his name now greatly known, and 



168 LIFE OF WABHINQTON. 

the officer felt no little curiosity to look at this invisible war- 
rior, who was 80 often felt but never seen. On removing the 
bandage from his eyes, he was presented to a man rather 
below the middle size, very thin in his person, of a dark 
complexion and withered look. He was dressed in a home- 
spun coat that bore evidence of flood and field, and the rest 
of his garments were much the worse for wear. 

" I came," said the officer, " with a message for General 
Marion." 

" I am he," said Marion ; and these are my solditrs." 

The officer looked around and saw a parcel of rough, half- 
clothed fellows, some roasting sweet potatoes, others resting 
on their dark muskets, and others asleep with logs for their 
pillows. 

The business being settled, the officer was about to depart 
when he was rather ceremoniously invited by Marion to stay 
and dine. Not seeing any symptoms of dinner, he was in- 
clined to take the invitation in jest; but on being again 
pressed, curiosity as well as hunger prompted him to accept. 
The general then ordered his servant to set the table and serve 
up dinner ; upon which the man placed a clean piece of pine 
bark on the ground, and raking the ashes, uncovered a 
(quantity of sweet potatoes. These constituted Marion's 
breakfasts, dinners, and suppers, for many a time that he 
watched the flame of liberty in the swamps of South Carolina. 

Some jests occurred at this patriarchal feast, but in con- 
clusion the conversation took a serious turn. The British 
officer learned, in reply to various questions, that Marion and 
his soldiers were serving without pay; living without 
quarters ; sometimes half-clothed, at others half-starved ; 
and expressed his pity for their situation. The reply of 
Marion ought never to be forgotten by ray youthful readers. 

" Pity not me," said the soldier of freedom, smiling ; '* I am 
happier than you, for I am ^ghting to free, while you are 



LIFE OP wAsHixaroN. iGy 

staving, fo enslave your counti'ynien. "When T am Iiungiy, I 
comfort myself with the hope that I am doing something for 
my fellow-creatures ; when I am cold and wet, I warm myeelf 
with the consciousness that I am Buffering for my countiy, 
and when the cause in which I am engaged, and for which I 
have pledged my life, seera« shrouded iu gloom and despair, 
I still recollect that there is yet virtue in man, and justice in 
his Maker. The children of my country in after generations 
may never hear of my name, or know that I laboured in their 
cause ; but on my soul, eir, the thought that I am now contend- 
ing for their freedom and happiness, ia what I would not ex- 
change for the feelings of any man that lives, or over lived, 
who was the oppressor of his fellow-creatures." 

The soldier of Britain made no reply. He returned to his 
commander with a serious, nay sorrowful countenance ; and 
on being questioned as to the cause, made this remarkable 
answer . — 

"Sir, I have seen an American general, his officers and sol- 
diers serving without pay, without shelter, without clothing, 
without any other food than roots and water — and they are 
enduring all these for liberty ! "What chance have we of sub- 
duing a country with such men for her defenders ?" It ih 
said he soon after threw np his commission and retired from 
the service, either in consequence of a change in his feelings, 
or of hopelessness in the success of the cause in which he had 
engaged. 

Such was the deplorable state of affairs in the South when — 
failing in all his attempts to avail himself of his superior 
force, by the consummate skill and caution of Washington, 
whose talent for war was every year perfecting under the dif- 
ficulties he was doomed perpetually to encounter — Sir Henry 
Clinton, leaving a sufficient force to protect New York, car- 
ried the war into that quarter with more vigour than ever. 



170 LIFE OF WASBINQTON. 

He besieged and took the capital of South Carolina, which 
Burreudered the 12th of May, 5780, and with it the whole south- 
ern array undor General Lincoln. Washington had previously 
atrenuously advised against shutting u]) or risking armies for 
the defence of cities, and the event, as in every other case in 
which he gave his decided opinon on military affairs, justified 
his sagacitj'. 

By this disaster the whole southern section of the United 
States was left exposed to the incursions of the enemy. They 
conld derive no assistance from the American army in the 
North, which was now weakened in numbers, and above all, 
by want and misery. General Schuyler, the old Roman sol- 
dier, of whose value Congress had again become sensible, in 
restoring him to his command, thus writes to Washington 
about this period : — " At one time the soldiers ate every kind 
of horse-feed but hay. As an army, they bore it with the most 
heroic patience ; but sufferings like these, accompanied by the 
want of clothes, blankets, will produce frequent desertion in 
all armies ; and so it happened with us, though it did not cre- 
ate a single mutiny." Such were the miseries our fathers bore 
for a succession of years, rather than forfeit the great prize of 
liberty; and let those who dare question their patriotism, be- 
cause they sometimes complained, put themselves in thefr places, 
and say what they would have done. Nothing, indeed, can 
be more ungrateful and unjust than to impeach the firmness and 
virtue of a people who, for almost eight years, were by turns 
the prey of an irritated, arrogant enemy, who disdained to 
concede to them the courtesies of civilized warfare under pre- 
tence of their being rebels, and who endured all these suffer- 
ings rather than submit to anticipated despotism. Much less 
ought the descendants of those firm and unconquerable pa- 
triots to detract from the merits of (he poor soldiers who 
gained victories in the dead of winter barefooted, and endured 
defeats, eharpeued and aggravated by hunger, cold, and 



I.I trie (IK WANIIINUTON. l7l 

ilcHinur (>r Ix'ttrr dnyM. ImhIciuI oI" \vtiiul«Miup. Hint iliry «nd 
no moiv, wc I'liglif (o «iinHi(li'r llu'ir ddiiiK wlmt llicy iliil 
l\ltlo loKB than m ininifli' lu'iloi nioil by pulicncr, ciMiiiim'. ami 
pal Holism. 

AnoMuT Hjul !»ii(l ulimmy piMiiul HUrriM'drd llic (owimiuh; 
hopes Aviik(M\(nl l)y i\w nlliuiu-t' wilh I'r.'uu'i'. Am yd. il luul 
dono uoHuuh: lull (Irivw down on tlio lioiul of Aniorini » hii'mIit 
woight. of vougoniu'o und powei'. The I'^roiioli ilci'in IiuhihIiI. 
with llinn, or wcn» lullowod l»y, wnpciior lltH'lH ol (lie t'lUMiiy. 
wliicli tlicfkcd llii'ir opiMnlioiiH on our couhIm ; nnd \\ lien llioy 
doparlfd for one pliiii<, look tidviuiinK'' "f H'l"''' idrntMUH' to 
Hcourgo thoHo wlioni llicy caino lo iirolrol. I'uliln- crt'dit, (oo, 
wuH now t\l. tlio lowcsl. obb, nud pupiM-Miouiy npproiu'liijigf 
rnjiidly (o thai »'ntaHlroph(< which Hooncr or Itilcr, in every ngfo 
and nation, in Hiire Id ooniw in tiio iiour of deept'ot calamity. Ifc 
in tho traitor will) plnndoj'H his country in pettce, und betrnys 
il in war; the pMiaHJIe that riinf^n to tii(< viKoronw oak in the 
(layH of its HlriMiKlh lurHupporl, nntl aHHJHlH in choKniH: il when 
it bOKioH lo wither !im(1 deciiy. 

CouKreHM ("o\dd now pioenre no miipplieH lor the army ni 
exchange for promiHoM, whofte fnllUmcnt depended on a <liH-< 
I ant liope, every day apparently gettinn: farther oil'; and the 
poor Holdiers, who Honght to mitijiruto liu'ir wimlH by the 
Httcrillco of the oiiniinpH of their blood, were piud, il" pan! at 
all, in niffH, whicii even Tinu* liimHi-lf could not keep paco 
with in (!e|tre(;iation. It became impoMHilile to Krndiinte the 
pay of tlie army to liie rapid de|)reHHion ol the medium ot pay- 
ment, and the HwiftiieHH of the det^ent every monn'iit imlica- 
led that tlu^ bubble wan now about t(t burHt. 'I'lie HeUiMJi, 
cowardly policy of HhiftinK the burdeiiH of the preHcnt to tlu» 
broad Hlioulders of the future, wan now exemplilled in a Hiato 
of alVairH that threatened irretrievable ruin to a cauHo whlcdi 
had already eont the people yeiuH of mlHery and HiiU'eniiK t'l 
wimtain. Tublic coulidenco waH dcHtroyed iind indepeudeucO 



172 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

tottereJ on her throne. Tlio [lay i)f a fiold officer would not 
furnish provender for liis lior.se, and that of a common soldier 
could iind nothing in tiie shape of a want within the compass 
of his means. 

Owing to a lack of uniformity the military establishment, 
arising in a great degree from the diftereut quotas of the states 
being placed under the supervision of those who sent them, 
and not of Congress directly, and the means or will of some 
of the states being greater than others, it fretjuently happened 
that the troops of one state would be, at least partially, sup- 
plied with necessaries or comforts, of which the other were 
wholly destitute. Thus, to the miseries of want, was added 
the aggravation of seeing others in comparative plenty ; for 
though the soldiers sometimes sliared with each other, it was 
not to be expected that they would strip themselves to clothe 
a stranger, or divide their last morsel with anj- but a dear 
friend or near relation. 

In this state of affairs, a strong disposition to mutiny 
began to manifest itself among the common soldiers which 
was not checked by an exertion of the iniluence of the 
officers. They too were suffering like their fellow-soldiers; 
those who had private fortunes were compelled to expend 
them, and those who depended on their pay were left desti- 
tute by the worthlessness of paper-money. The officers of more 
than one line unanimously announced their determination to 
resign, and without doubt, if they had carried this resolution 
into effect, it would have been followed by a voluntary dis- 
bandnient of the whole, or a greater portion, of the army. 
But whenever the genius of freedom despaired, she had re- 
course to the wisdom and iutluence of Washington. What 
neither Congress, nor any other man or men could do, he did. 
The love, and confidence, and veneration of his soldiers was 
the sceptre of his dominion over their minds. He reigned by 
the force of his character and the purity of his virtues. He 



LIFE OF WASHINQTON. 17S 

called to him the officers who were about to take this fatal 
step ; he reasoned with thorn on the duties of patriotism, and 
the sacritices which every man owed to liis country in her 
hour of peril ; he referred to the past, as furnishing rational 
grounds of hope for the future ; and by tiie force of his elo- 
quence, aided by tlie weight of his cluiracter, at length wrought 
on these gallant spirits to devote tliemselves again to the 
noble cause in which they had aulTered so much and so long. 
Thus, once more did Washington, by the authority, not of 
his station, but of his virtues, ward oil' another imminent 
danger that hovered like a black cloud over th(! hopes of the 
future. 

The immediate wants of the army were at length relieved 
by the expedient of a bank in riiiladeli)liia, whose object 
was the supply of provisions and clothing, by means of a 
capital of three hundred thousand pounds. During the whole 
courso of a long war, full of disasters and suffering, the 
females of the United States had exhibited a patriotism 
worthy of tlieir fathers, husbands, sons, and country. The 
details of the insults they endured from the insolence of tri- 
umphant foes, the dangers they encountered in their unpro- 
tected homes from their barbarity ; the privations they sud'ered 
from the plunder of their desolated lields and gardens, while 
their protectors were far away, lighting the battles of their 
country ; all these, if collected in one mass, would form a picture 
scarcely paralleled in the annals of war. Christian and pagan, 
red man and white man, Briton and Hessian^ loyalist and Wal- 
decker, seemed to vie with each other in an utter contempt of 
the courtesy due to a virtuous female, every-where, and 
under all circumstances. Tlie wrongs of women escape 
through the wide meshes of history, but they are preserved 
in the hearts of their children ; and tlie recollection of the 
insults of our mothers is rendered still more affecting, aw 



174 lilFE OF WASHINGTON. 

^ell as endearing, by that noble flrmnesa which enabled them 
to bear them all "without turning traitresses to the sacred 
cause of their country. 

The traditions of our revolution abound in the most affecting 
instances of female courage and patriotism, such as posterity 
will do well to imitate, should the time ever again arrive for 
such sacrifices. Often did thej-^ suffer their houses to be burned 
over their heads, their persons to be insulted, and their lives 
to hang by a single hair on the ferocious mercy of a drunken 
soldier, rather than betray the haunts of their defenders, or 
give the least item of information that might be serviceable to 
the enemy. Often did their industry contribute to the comforts 
of the army, and often did they sacrifice those little fineries 
that women love, at the shrine of patriotism. Thus, at the 
time of which I am writing, the ladies of Philadelphia came 
forward and gave large donations of money, and the products 
of their industry, for the relief of the suffering army. Such 
instances should be frequently held up to the imitation of our 
daughters, who, too many of them, seem to have not only 
thrown away that noble simplicity which was the character- 
istic of their mothers, but also that affecting patriotism by 
which they were so highly distinguished. 

In this gloomy crisis again we hear the paternal voice of 
the good Washington urging on the tardy footsteps of tired 
patriotism. He thus expostulates with Congress, whose diffi- 
culties were not inferior to his own. It had to deal with a 
people struggling for freedom, and jealous of authority even 
when it originated in themselves. "While opposing the en- 
croachments of parliament, they equally dreaded those of Con- 
gress. That body exercised no supremacy but what was 
voluntarily conceded by the states. It could recommend, feut 
not enforce. Its influence was that of character, and its au- 
thority was founded on necessity. It is therefore unjust, as 
well as ungrateful, to blame it for not exercising promptly a 



trpB or wASHIK6^To^f. 175 

power which it did not possess. On the expected arrival of 
the French fleet to commence the campaign of 1780, Washing- 
ton thus addressed Congress, referring to his entire ignorance 
of the force which would be at his disposal when called upon 
to co-operate : — 

" The season is come when we have every reason to expect 
the arrival of the French fleet ; and yet, for want of being in- 
formed on a point of such primary consequence, it is impossi- 
ble for me to form a system of co-operation. 

'' I have no basis to act upon, and of course, were this gene- 
rous succour of our ally now to arrive, I should find myself in 
the most awkward, embarrassing, and painful situation. The 
general and the admiral, as soon as they approach our coast, 
will require of me a plan of the measures to be pursued, and 
there ought of right to be one prepared ; but circumstanced as 
I am, I cannot imagine, or even conjecture. From these con- 
siderations, I yesterday suggested to the committee the indis- 
pensable necessity of their writing again to the states, urging 
them to give immediate and precise information of the mea- 
sures they have taken, and the result. The interest of the 
states, the honour and reputation of our councils, the justice 
and gratitude due to our allies, all require that I should, with- 
out delay, be enabled to ascertain and inform them what we 
can or cannot undertake. This is a point which ought now 
to be determined, on the success of which all our future oper- 
ations may depend, but on which, for want of knowing our 
prospects, I can make no decision. For fear of involving the 
fleet and the army of our allies in circumstances which would 
expose them, if not seconded by us, to material inconvenience 
and hazard, I shall be compelled to suspend it, and the delay 
may be fatal to our hopes." 

The enemy, who on all occasions miscalculated the patriot- 
ism of the American people, presummg on the discontents of 
the army, and the state of the public mind in New Jersey, 



176 LliE 01'' WABHIKQION. 

which Avas represented in exaggerated terms, in the beginning 
- of June mado an attempt iu tliat quarter. A force of live thou- 
sand men under General Kuyphausen, lauded at Llizabeth- 
towu-poiut, and inarched into the interior as far as Springfield. 
But the Jersey Blues were true to themselves, and their cause, 
and their country. 'I'he militia flew to arms, and gave the 
enemy such a reception that he halted at Connecticut farms, 
after having in revenge set fire to that settlement. Other ex- 
cesses, unworthy of a magnanimous nation, were committed 
during this excursion. The wife of a clergyman was wantonly 
shot through a window, while sitting surrounded by her chil- 
dren. It was thus that, in the lowest ebb of their fortunes, 
the people of the United States were roused to new exertions' 
by a conduct as impolitic as it was irreconcilable with the 
usages of civilized warfare, or the dictates of humanity. Yet 
the Americans on no occasion ever retaliated. 

During this period, Washington occupied the hills between 
Springfield and Chatham, where he remained a witness of 
what he could not prevent. His force consisted of less than 
four thounand rank and file, as usual, ill provided with the 
means of rendering even that efficient. He saw the fields of 
his country laid waste, its homes in smoking ruins, and the 
females a prey to lawless violence, and, while his great spirit 
panted to chase the spoiler from the land, was without the 
means of either arresting or revenging the wrongs of his be- 
loved countrymen. Yet he never despaired, or remitted his 
exertions. The even tenor of his well-poised mind remained 
undisturbed. He watched with incessant vigilance for an op- 
portunity of checking and punishing the invader; he toiled 
himself; himself set the example of fortitude and patience, 
■while, at the same time, what fate had denied him to do by 
his sword, he endeavoured to do with his pen. He called 
upon those who directed the civil afiuirs of the states to exert 
their influence and their energies to enable him to defend tho 



LIFE OF WASHINaiON." 177 

liberties of his country, and never ceased urging them, with a 
dignified and decorous firmness, to the adoption of measures 
for the safety of the good cause. In many instances, they 
were animated to the passage of laws for this purpose, but 
the delays, perhaps difficulties, of carrying them into execu- 
tion, were such as, in very many cases, prevented Washing- 
ton from availing himself of their benefits until the oppor- 
tunity had passed away never to return. There can be no 
doubt whatever, that if his means had in any degree corres- 
ponded with those of the enemy, he would have finished the 
war in a single campaign. But this was at no time the case, 
and least of all now. General Kynphausen, finding it impos- 
sible to bring him to action, or to take advantage of his rash- 
ness in the admirable position he had chosen, returned once 
more to Elizabethtown, there to wait the arrival of Sir Henry 
Clinton, who, having, as he vainly supposed, conquered the 
South, was about to return to gather fresh laurels in the 
North. 

That event took place about the middle of June, and added 
to the already-overwhelming force of the enemy, who resumed 
his operations in New Jersey with new vigour. But meeting 
with a brave resistance at the bridge of Rah way, and discou- 
raged, perhaps, by the spirit and vigour displayed on that oc- 
casion by the regular troops under General Greene, the British 
commander turned back once more to Elizabethtown, from 
whence he passed over to Staten Island. 

In the montli of July following, the French lleet, under the 
Chevalier Ternay, having on board six thousand troops, under 
Count Rochambeau, appeared off Rhode Island. The anxiety 
of Washington had been extreme that the states should be 
prepared to co-operate with their allies with an efficient force. 
He wished his country to be placed on a respectable footing 
by the side of France, and not to owe her safety or indepen- 
H 5 



178 MPS OF WASHINeXON. 

dence to foreigners alone. But this man of many trials, this 
noble-spirited citizen, this Unconquerable patriot, whose strug- 
gle for the liberties of his country was one long series of dis- 
appointment and mortification, was doomed once more to sus- 
tain the bitter feelings of wounded pride — the noble pride of 
conscious worth and eminent services. 

The plan which he had urged for recruiting his army, had 
indeed been partly adopted. But such were the inevitable 
delays attending the action of a government which might re- 
commend, but not enforce, its measures, and such the discou- 
ragements which stood in the way of enlistment, that Wash- 
ington could form no reasonable estimate of the force with 
which he might be able to co-operate with the French, and 
consequently propose no feasible jilan of operations. This 
■was the more mortifying to his feelings, as the French army 
had been placed by the court of France entirely under his di- 
rection. By this arrangement all difficulties with regard to 
punctilio were obviated; the French were always to give the 
post of honour to the Americans, to whom they were con- 
sidered in the light of auxiliaries, and thenceforward there 
existed between them a harmony, equally honourable to both 
parties. 

The arrival of the French fleet and army rendered it now 
imperative on Washington to present to their commanders a 
definitive plan for the campaign. He accordingly communi- 
cated to them an arrangement for besieging New York, in the 
forlorn hope that the means of fulfilling his part would in time 
be furnished him by Congress and the states. 

*' Pressed on all sides," he says, in a letter to the former, 
"by ^ choice of difficulties, in a moment which requires de- 
cision, I have adopted that line of conduct which comported 
with the dignity and faith of Congress, the reputation of these 
states, and the honour of our arms. I have sent on definitive 
proposals of co-oi)eration to the French general and admiral. 



WF» P|P WASHINGTON. 17^ 

Neither the ppriod, the season, nor a regard to decency would 
permit delay. The die is cast, and it remains with the states, 
either to fulfil their engagements, preserve their credit, and 
support their independence, or to involve us in disgrace and 
defeat. Notwithstanding the failures pointed out by the com- 
mittee, I shall proceed on the supposition that they will ul- 
timately consult their own interest and honour, and not suffer 
us to tail for want of means which it is evidently in their power 
to afford. What has been done, and is doing, by some of the 
states, confirms the opinion I have entertained of sufficient re- 
sources in the country. Of the disposition of the people to sub- 
mit to any arrangement for calling them forth, I see no rea- 
sonable ground of doubt. If we fail for want of proper exer- 
tions in any of the governments, I trust the responsibility will 
fall where it ought, and that I shall stand justified to Congress, 
my country, and the world." 

Those who reflect on the character of Washington, so totally 
divested of the slightest disposition to declaim or exaggerate 
— with what a noble, patriotic caution he avoided transcend- 
ing the powers committed to him by Congress, and every ap- 
pearance of dictating to that body, will see in this extract the 
struggle of his mind. He had committed himself, in the hour 
of stern necessity, by an engagement to the French command- 
ers, which it rested in Congress to enable him to comply with. 
" The die is cast," as he says with a brief solemnity ; and he 
calls on Congress and the states to enable him to fulfil his 
word, and save his own honour as well as that of his country. 
This was probably the most painful period of his life; and no- 
thing but his ardent devotion to his country, joined perhaps to 
an innate and heaven-inspired consciousness that her destinies, 
under Providence, in a great measure hung on his persever- 
ance, and that if now he deserted her, confusion would follow, 
probably impelled him still to retain an arduous station, in 
which he met with such bitter mortifications. The idea of 



180 LIFK OF WASHINGTON. 

being obliged to forfeit that word which to him was sacred, 
and which he had thus pledged to the gallant soldiers of France, 
must have carried with it a pang, which neither misfortune 
nor personal suffering could equal. There is something singu- 
larly affecting, to my mind, in contemplating the situation of 
Washington, not only at the present time, but during the pre- 
ceding years of the revolutionary struggle. 

The picture presented to my imagination is that of a lofty 
and expanded mind, struggling with difficulties, not for an 
hour or a day but through a long series of years, each one in- 
creasing the weight of his cares, and investing him with still 
more insuperable difficulties. He was indeed a man of many 
cares, perplexities, disappointments, and sufferings ; and no- 
thing could have supported him in these endless trials of his 
patience, his fortitude and his intellect, his body and his mind, 
but that consciousness of duty which is founded on the Rock 
of Ages, animated and inspired by a patriotism which nothing 
could shake or undermine. With him the animating principle 
was neither the love of glory nor the ambition of power. His 
station for a long series of years olTered him no hope of the 
one, no present possession, and scarcely any anticipation of the 
other. Many is the time, no doubt, that, instead of glory, he 
looked forward to exile, or an ignominous death ; and instead 
of the wreath of victory, anticipated a croAvn of thorns. The 
conquerors of kingdoms and the desolators of the world fade 
into utter insignificance when brought face to face with the 
man of our pride, our affections, and our reverence ; and far 
greater, as well as far more an object of admiration and love 
does he appear, to my mind, in the midst of disaster and de- 
feat, than did Csesar when making his triumphal entry into the 
capital of the world, laden with the spoils and followed by 
the captives of a hundred nations of barbarians. 

The plan proposed by Washington for the seige of New 
York contemplated that the French troops should leave New- 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 181 

port, and the Americana rendezvous at Morrisania, opposite 
York Island, where they were to form a junction. It was 
indispensable to the success of the arrangement that the 
French should possess a naval superiority over the British. 
But this was effectually prevented by the arrival of six ships 
of the line, sent by Admiral Graves to reinforce the squadron 
at New York. 

This turned the scales completely ; and instead of the allies 
besieging the British in New York, the English admiral forth- 
with sailed to Rhode Island to attack the French. At the 
same time Sir Henry Clinton proceeded with eight thousand 
men, as was supposed, with a design of co-operating, and 
V/ashington prepared for an attack on New York in his ab- 
sence. This brought Sir Ilenery speedily back to this old 
(quarters, which movement of course arrested the design of 
the American commander. 

Thus all prospects of a junction of the allied forces of 
America and France were suspended for a time, until the ex- 
pected arrival of a fleet from the West Indies, under Count 
de Guichen. The policy of the French government in its co- 
operation with the Americans had a two -fold object, each of 
which interfered with the other, and often came near render- 
ing both abortive. One was to assist America, the other to 
protect the French West India Islands. Hence in the history 
of those times, the conduct of the French admirals, in ap- 
pearing at one moment here, and the next sailing for the West 
Indies, which might otherwise seem strange to my youthful 
readers, is explained by the necessity of following the move- 
ments of the fleet of the enemy. 

Instead of the arrival of the Count de Guichen on the coast 
of the United States, the news came that he had sailed for 
France. By this unexpected movement, which created great 
disappointment both among French and Americans, the British 
land and naval forces were each left iu the ascendency, and 



182 LIFB 07 WA8HINQT0N. 

the allies forced to act on the defensive. Washington, how- 
ever, still cherished a determination to attempt New York 
the iirst opportunity ; when the arrival of Admiral Rodney, 
with eleven ships of the line, rendered all further prosecution 
of the design utterly hopeless, until a change took place in 
the relative force of the contending parties. 

The high-wrought expectations to Avhich the French alliance 
had given birth, thus ended, for the present, in disappoint- 
ment. Hope deferred is said to be more harassing than hope 
utterly lost; and the absence of any favourable results from 
the co-operation of the French forces, had a worse effect on 
our cause than the failure of our own unaided exertions. 
While we depended on ourselves alone, we looked forward to 
defeat, and armed ourselves with patience and fortitude for a 
long period of suffering. B ut the moment of the French 
alliance was hailed as the beginning of a new and more 
prosperous era, which would speedily be followed by victory 
and independence. Both Congress and the states had remitted 
their exertions ; the Americans had ceased to depend on them- 
selves, and instead of reaping their own scanty harvest, left 
the field to be sown by others. 

No man more deei)ly felt the bitterness of the disappoint- 
ment of the apparently just expectation of the people of the 
United States than Washington. The campaign of 1780 had 
passed, Avithout bringing Avith it a single advantage. It had 
been in a great measure inactive, as Avell as inglorious ; and 
the army of freedom retired once more to its huts in the 
Highlands, as full of wants, and more hopeless of their being 
supplied than ever. These circumstances prepared the Avay 
for events which again, and Avith still more rigour, threatened 
for ever to annihilate all the hopes even of the most sanguine 
friends of the great cause of mankind. 



I.IFR OF WASHINGTON. 198 



CHAPTER XV. 

Treason of Arnold Capture and Death of Andre. 

The close of the year seventeen hundred and eighty was dis- 
tinguished by the discovery and defeat of a conspiracy that, 
had it succeeded, might have long deferred, if not put a final 
period to, the hope of independence. Arnold who had dis- 
tinguished himself on various occasions as a brave, active and 
skilful officer, was now about to become infamously immortal 
by betraying the country which he had so gallantly defended^ 
Had he pursued the bright track in which he commenced his 
career, through all the vicissitudes of the struggle, he might 
have left behind him a name second to Washington alone in the 
military annals of the revolution. But he preferred to stand 
first in the records of infamy ; to live alone in ignominious 
solitude, as the only traitor that deforms the pages of our 
history. He was a great soldier, but not an honest man. He 
possessed the talents to serve his country, but was without 
that virtue which is the only true basis of illustrious actions 
He could resist the enemies of his country, but not his own. 
He wanted the firmness to be prudent, and the integrity to 
overcome those temptatious which imprudence throws in every 
man's way. He incurred debts, and sold himself and his 
country, not to pay them, but to procure the means of new ex- 
travagance. He finally fell into the bottomless pit of infamy ; 
and no one pitied a man who was false to his country, with 
the example of Washingtou before him. His fate ought never 
to be forgotten, because it furnishes incontestible evidence, 
that without integrity and prudence no man can ever become 
truly great. He may rise to a certain height, bu t like the youth 
in classic fable, the moment he approaches the sunbeams of 



184 LIFB OF WASHINGTON. 

temptation, the wax of his wings will melt, and he will fall 
never to rise again. 

He who is despised or hated by his school-fellows, will sel- 
dom live to be respected or beloved by men. The bud thatis 
cankered by the worm produces no full-blown rose ; and the 
worthless child becomes the villain man. It appears, from 
subsequent investigations, that Arnold was an evil-dis- 
posed boy, and equally hated and feared by his associates. 
He was a tyrant and a traitor at the same time. He de- 
ceived them into confidence, and then punished them for their 
credulity. He led them into transgression, and became 
their accuser. My young readers may be almost sure, that 
he who in his youth pursues such a course as this, will 
end in guilt and crime. He may never be in a situation, like 
Arnold, to betray his country, but in whatever condition he 
may be placed, ho will bo ecjually mischievous and Avorthless. 
To check the earliest bend of the young plant is the only way 
to make it an upright and stately tree. 

The vain prodigality of Arnold produced the want of money, 
and placed him in the way of temptation ; for the clamours of 
the creditor are the whoopings of the owl, foreboding mischief 
and ruin. His wants led him to have recourse, while in Thila- 
delphia, to the most irregular and unbecoming means of sup- 
plying them. This brought him into collision with the autho- 
rites of Pennsylvania, and under the censures of Congress. He 
demanded a trial, and was sentenced to be reprimanded by 
Washington. He possessed not the pride of integrity, but had 
his full share of that baser substitute which shrinks, not from 
the commission, but the exposure of crime. That pride was 
deeply wounded, and the mild lesson he received from his 
virtuous commander, instead of operating in favour of his 
reform, only determined him to deeper and darker transgres- 
sions. 

It appears that either before, or shortly afterwards, he in- 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON.' 183 

vited a correspondence with the British in New York, and 
only waited to becomo worth buying to propose the purchase 
to Sir Henry Clinton. That opportunity offered itBolf when, 
at his solicitation, he was placed in command of the post of 
West Point;, which was not only the key to the Highlands, 
but at that time the head-ijuarters of the American army, and 
the very stronghold of liberty. It was now that Arnold me- 
ditated the final consummation of his treason. In conjunc- 
tion with Major John Andre, adjutant-general of the British 
army, he matured a plan which, had it been successfully exe- 
cuted, would in all probabilit}' have eventuated in the capture 
of the entire army, and all the military stores deposited at 
West Point. Sir Henry Clinton was to proceed by water to 
the Highlands with all his force, where he would find the 
American troops dispersed in situations which would render 
defence impossible and their capture certain. The absence 
of Washington in Connecticut furnished the favourable mo- 
ment. 

To give the last finish to this fatal scheme, the Vulture 
sloop of war was sent up the river, as near the Highlands as 
was prudent, bearing Andre to an interview with Arnold, 
who had come down to Haverstraw for this purpose. Ac- 
cordingly they met, and settled the final preliminaries of this 
momentous project. But Providence, that seems ever to have 
watched over the liberties of the United States, interposed a 
series of obstacles, apparently trifling in themselves, but de- 
cisive in their consequences. Andre was to have been put on 
board the Vulture by daylight in the morning, but that vessel 
had been obliged to remove so far down the river, by a fire 
from the shore, from a small cannon, that the men appointed 
to row the boat, which belonged to a man of the name of 
Smith, refused to perform the task. They either feared detec- 
tion, suspected something wrong, or were, as they pleaded, 
too much fatigued for such a service. 



186 I'IPE OF WASH ma TON. 

It then became necessary to provide for the return of Andre 
by land. The district of country between the Highlands and 
Kingsbridge, or Spiking Duyvel, was at that period neither 
in possession of the British or Americans. It was called 
" between the lines," and, like the borders of England and 
Scotland in former times, was subject to the inroads of both 
parties. That celebrated scholar and divine, the Reverend 
Timothy D wight. President of Yale College, in his excellent 
travels through New England and New York, has given the 
following striking and affecting picture of the condition of 
this unfortunate people. 

" In the autumn of 1777 I resided for some time in this 
county.* The lines of the British were then in the neighbour- 
hood of Kingsbridge, and those of the Americans at Byram 
River. These unhappy people were therefore exposed to the 
depredations of both. Often were they actually plundered, 
and always were they liable to this calamity. They feared 
everybody they saw, and trusted nobody. They yielded with 
a kind of apathy, and very quietly, what was asked, and what 
they supposed it was impossible to retain. If you treated 
them kindly, they received it coldly, not as kindness, but as 
compensation for injuries done them by others. When you 
spoke to them, they answered without good or ill-nature, and 
without any reluctance or hesitation ; but they subjoined nei- 
ther ([uestions nor remarks of their own ; proving, to your 
full conviction, that they felt no interest in your conversation 
or yourself. Both their countenances and their motions had 
lost every trace of animation and of feeling. Their features 
were smoothed, not into serenity, but apathy; and instead of 
being settled in the attitude of quiet thinking, thoroughly in- 
dicated that all thought, beyond what was merely instinctive, 
had abandoned their minds. 

'* Their houses, in the mean time, were in a great measure 
• Westcheiter. 



MFK OF WASHINOTON. 187 

scenes of deaolation. Their furniture was extensively plun- 
dered and broken to pieces. The walls, floors, and windows 
were injured by violence and decay; and were not repaired, 
because they had not thR means of repairing them ; or because 
they were every day exposed to a repetition of the same in- 
juries. Their cattle were gone. Their enclosures were burnt, 
where they were capable of becoming fuel, and in every case 
thrown doAvn where they were not. Their fields were covered 
with a rank growth of weeds and wild grass. Amid all this 
appearance of desolation, nothing struck my eye more forcibly 
than the sight of the great road, — the passage from New York 
to Boston. Where I had heretofore seen a succession of horses 
and carriages, and life and bustle lent a sprightliness to all 
the surrounding objects, not a single, solitarj'- traveller was 
visible from week to week, or from month to month. The 
world was motionless, silent, and sad, except when one of 
those unhappy people ventured upon a rare and lonely excur- 
sion to the house of a neighbour, no less unhappy. A scouting 
party, traversing the country in quest of enemies, alarmed the 
inhabitants with expectations of new injuries and sufferings. 
The very tracks of the carriages were overgrown or obli- 
terated. The grass was of full length for the scythe, and 
strongly realized, to my mind, the proper import of that pic- 
turesque declaration of the Song of Deborah : ' In the days 
of Shamgar the son of Anath, in the days of Jael, the high- 
ways were unoccupied, and the travellers walked through 
by-paths. The inhabitants of the villages ceased — they ceased 
in Israel.' " 

Such was the state of this devoted country. Yet still, as 
it was possible that Andre might encounter some of the Ame- 
ricans on his route to New York, it was determined, after 
much opposition on his part, that he should lay aside his uni- 
form, and put on a disguise. 

Thus voluntarily relinquishing his character of a soldier, he 



188 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

was passed over to the east side of the river, and furnished 
by Smith with a horse. Smith also accompanied him as far as 
he thought necessary or prudent, and then, bidding him fare- 
well, returned to his home. Andre pursued his way without 
meeting any interruption, or encountering a single obstacle, 
and was congratulating himself, as he afterwards declared, on 
being now in safety, when, in the act of crossing a little 
bridge, near the village of Tarrytown, he was stopped by a 
young man, dressed as a countryman, who darted out of the 
woods, and seized his bridle. 

He was completely taken by surprise, and acted as men 
usually do in such situations. He asked the young man, 
whose name was John Paulding, where he came from ? He 
replied, " From below," a phrase signifying that he came from 
the British posts in that direction. " And so do I," cried 
Andre, expecting to be immediately released. But this con- 
fession betrayed him, and on the appearance of two other 
young men, who were called out by the first, he discovered 
his imprudence. It was then that he produced his pass from 
Arnold, which would have probably assured his release, but 
for the previous declaration, that he came " from below." He 
was taken into an adjoining wood, and searched, without 
making the least resistance ; and nothing being found to ex- 
cite suspicion, the young men began to waver under his 
threats of the vengeance of Arnold, should they detain him 
any longer. 

Before they let him go, however, it was proposed to 
search his boots, which had hitherto escaped their atten- 
tion ; and now, for the first time, Andre turned pale. He dis- 
covered an unwillingness that excited suspicion, and they 
were obliged to resort to threats, before they could induce 
him to submit. On pulling off his right boot, a paper was 
discovered, which at once indicated his business. It was a 
plan of ^Ve8t Point, the disposition of the army, and of 



IIFB OP WASHINGTON. 189 

every particular necessary to the snccesa of Sir Henry Clin- 
ton. This, and other papers concealed in the boot, all in 
the handwriting of Arnold, disclosed the nature of Andre's 
mission, and at the same time the importance of the prize. 

It was then that these three youths, scarcely at the age 
of manhood, and steeped to the very lips in poverty, re- 
sisted those temptations which had placed their names among 
the imperishable records of. the times. They were the sons of 
reputable families in the county of Westchester, but they were 
poor, and their poverty had been rendered more pressing by 
the evils and excesses of war. Their parents lived " between 
the lines," and were equally subjected to the injuries of both 
parties. Andre offered them any reward they should demand, 
and pledged himself to remain as a hostage wherever they 
pleased, until the reward was received. " If you would give 
me ten thousand guineas, you should go nowhere but to head- 
quarters,"* replied Paulding, and the sentiment was echoed 
by his companions. 

As they proceeded to the quarters of Colonel Jameson, who, 
was the nearest officer, Andre remained at first silent and sad, 
xmtil they stopped for refreshment at a small country inn. — 
Here he entered into some conversation with the young men 
and seemed more cheerful. During the rest of their journey, 
he scarcely uttered a word. 

The capture of Andre disconcerted for ever the nefarious 
schemes of Arnold. Jameson, who seems to have been a 
weak and credulous man, permitted Andre to write him a 
letter announcing his capture, in the expectation, probably, 
that he would take measures for his release. But the only 
use he made of his information wa8 to flee with all speed, 
leaving his wife to the mercy of those he attempted to betray, 
and his name to their execrations. He succeeded in reaching 
the Vulture, whence he proceeded to New York. Here he 

* Testimony at the trial of Andre, 



190 LIFK OF WASHINSTON. 

met the rewards of that treason which the virtue of three poor 
youths had defeated; he received from the British general 
the rank he had forfeited in his own army ; distinguished him- 
self by his impertinence, his gasconade, and his cruelties; re- 
tired to England after the conclusion of the war, where he 
lived a life of mortification, poverty, and worthlessness, and 
died a death worthy of his never-ending infamy. His name 
remains, and I trust ever will remain, the blackest blot upon 
upon the annals of his country ; and as he had no predecessor, 
so may he never have a successor to his vast inheritance of 
shame. 

Andre, who had hitherto persisted in calling himself John 
Anderson, perceiving now the impossibility of further decep- 
tion, wrote a letter to "SVashington, announcing his name and 
rank, and hinting that the treatment of certain prisoners taken 
at Charleston, might materially depend on that which he re- 
ceived. This avowal has been often, indeed, uniformly cited, 
as a proof of candour and magnanimity ; but in reality there 
appears but little of either in avowing what can no longer be 
concealed. His subsequent conduct was manly and becom- 
ing ; he was tried, condemned, and executed as a spy, amid 
the rogrets of his enemies, who, softened by his youth, and 
penetrated by the circumstances of his inglorious death, la- 
mented his fate, and heartily wished for some other victim. 

By his countrymen he was considered a martyr to his loyalty, 
and by the Americans the hero of a romantic tale of unmerited 
misfortune. They forgot that he had been deep in a dastardly 
plot of treason against a people long struggling in vain for 
liberty, and now gasping in the toils of subjection ; they volun- 
tarily refused to remember that the success of his scheme would, 
in all probability, have almost ruined the cause, and to say 
the least, have added to the catalogue of their miseries other 
long years of suffering ; and they only desired to remember the 
high-coloured picture of a young man of brilliant destinies, 



LIFB. OF WASHINGTON. 191 

pei'ishing ignominiously in the outset of his career, under a 
gallows surrounded by enemies, who at that moment became 
his friends, and forgave him all he intended to do against 
them. 

But the real heroes of this striking tale, are the honest 
and lowly youths who saved their country from such imminent 
perils, by the simple exercise of an incorruptible integrity, ani- 
mated by an ardent patriotism. The factitious brilliancy 
thrown around Andre by his rank, his accomplishments, his 
manly firmness in dying, and the somewhat ostentatious dis- 
play of rhetoric in his letters to Washington, fades into in- 
significance when compared with the noble spectacle of honest 
poverty resisting temptations, to which one of the most dis- 
inguished warriors of his country had just yielded. The moral 
lesson afforded by these almost boys, when they had no array 
to witness their honesty, and no world looking on to admire 
their self-denial, is one that cannot too deeply be impressed on 
the minds of my young readers ; and it is for this reason I have 
dwelt on it with less brevity than the nature of the work 
otherwise requires. All who read these details may imitate 
the example, for there is no situation in life that precludes a 
man from doing his duty to his country. This is a call made 
on all mankind, from the highest to the lowest, and none can 
refuse to answer promptly, without violating one of the highest 
obligations of nature. 

Washington honoured these young men with testimonies of 
his approbation; Congress bestowed on them a silver 
medal, an annuity, and a unanimous vote of thanks: the 
state of New York gave them each a farm ; and the names of 
John Paulding, Isaac Van Wart, and David Williams, have 
ever since been quoted by their countrymen as synonymous 
with incorruptible integrity and honest patriotism. The ex- 
ample they afford cannot but be useful to the youth of my 
country, by showing thai no station in life precludes thenj 



Jy2 LIKE OP WASHINGTON'. 

fiom theexercirte of the higl\est virtues, or from receiving from 
their country both gratitude and honours, when they deservo 
them. 



CHAPTER XVI. 

opening of the Year 1781. Mutinies. Conductor Washington, ami his Mo- 
tives. Commences a Journal. Extracts. Reprimand to his Overseer. Dis- 
putes between New- York and Vermont. Washington interposes his good 
offices cfTectually. Ruinous State of the Finances. Colonel Laurens sent to 
France. Letter of Washington. French and Dutch Loan. Promise of 
effectual cooperation on the part of France. Preparations for besieging 
New York. Washington departs for the South. Incursion of Arnold into 
Conneticut. Yorktown. Cornwallis invested. Joy of the People at the 
Naws, 

The year 1781 commenced with events more ominous of that 
total destruction of all the hopes of our country, than any the 
Iiad preceded thoni. The patience and fortitude of the soldiers 
of the Revolution had been too sorely tried, and could endure 
no more. The army was now in winter-quarters in New Jer- 
sey, and among the Highlands of the Hudson, suffering many 
hardshijis and privations ; stinted of food deficient in clothings 
and without pay. The soldiers considered themselves, in some 
measure, abandoned by their countr3'', which they, perhaps 
justly, accused of ingratitude ; and a portion of them resolved 
no longer to fight for that freedom which i)ro.niised nothing but 
poverty, debts, and a jail. 

Onjthe nightof the first of Janunry, a period usually devoted 
to festivity, the Pennsylvania line, amounting to thirteen hun- 
dred men, turned out under arms in their quarters, near Morris- 
town, in New-Jersey, announcing their determination to march 
where Congress was sitting, and demand a redress of griev- 
ances. They declared they would throw down their arras 



tIFB.OF WABHINSTOW, 193 

and return home;, unless this was promptly granted; and 
neither the influence of their commander, General Wayne, nor 
of other distinguished officers, could deter them from their pur- 
pose. Their demands were, an immediate discharge to all who 
had served three years, an immediate payment of all arrear- 
ages, and pay in hard money to all who should choose to 
return to their duty. The whole body took up its line of march 
towards Princeton. The influence of 1 heir officers, the repre- 
sentations of Congress, and of the executive authorities of 
Pennsylvania, all proved ineffectual. They had received pro- 
mises more than enough, and they now demanded their imme- 
diate performance. 

However reprehensible may have been the conduct of these 
men, their subsequent course sufficiently proved that it did 
not originate in any unworthy motive. It was the consequence 
of personal hardships and suffering, not of disaffection or cow- 
ardice. When the fiery-spirited Wayne, their commander, 
threatened them with a cocked pistol, they exclaimed, with one 
voice, *' General, we love you, we respect you, but if you fire 
you are a dead man. We are not going to desert to the enemy. 
Were he in sight at this moment, you would see us fight 
under your orders in defence of our country. We love liberty, 
but we cannot starve." Their after conduct proved the truth 
of these professions. When Sir Henrj'- Clinton, hearing of 
these proceedings, despatched emissaries to tempt them to 
his side, by a promise of great rewards, they spurned the pro- 
posal, seized the tempters, and delivered them up to their gen- 
eral. Such behaviour as this, in some measure atoned for their 
desertion, and mingles admiration with censure. 

Washington was at New Windsor, on the Hudson, imme- 
diately above the Highlands, when the news of the mutiny 
reached him, which was before the civil authorities of Penn- 
sylvania had yielded in a great measure to the demands of the 
I 



194 LIFH OF WASHtNOTON. 

mutineeii. He wai placed in a eituation of great embarraas' 
ment. He equally telt the justice of the demands of the poor 
soldiers, and the danger of compliance. To deny them might 
be followed by perseverance in the course they had taken ; to 
yield to threats, made with arms in their hands, would, be- 
yond doubt, encourage others having equal cause of com- 
plaint to pursue a similar course. 

Under these circumstances, he declined to interpose that 
personal authority and influence which had hitherto been so 
uniformly successful in quelling the discontents of his army. 
He despaired of success, and did not choose to risk a failure, 
which might give a decisive shock to his dominion over the 
minds of his soldiers, and be the forerunner of a habit of dis- 
obedience fatal to his authority, which he felt was mainly 
based on their affection and confidence. It is probable, too, 
that having failed from year to year in his exortions to im- 
press upon Congress and the states the importance of a new 
and better organization of the army, as well as more atten- 
tion to their wants, he might rationally conclude it was best 
to leave to the civil authorities the settlement of difficulties 
justly referable to their own conduct. They required a seri- 
ous lesson in the shape of an example, since precept had 
failed in producing a reformation. No immediate danger 
could result from the withdrawal of the Pennsylvania 
line in the dead of winter, and now was, perhaps, the best 
time to impress upon Congress and the state authorities the 
absolute necessity of providing for the future pay and wants 
of the army. 

He justly concluded, tliat if a compliance with their 
wishes was accorded to the mutinous soldiers, it had better 
be done by the civil power than the commander-in-chief, 
who, by yielding to the demands of soldiers with arms in 
their hands, would give an example fatal to the future disci* 
pline of the army and his own authority. Accordingly, he 



LIP? OP WASHlKflTGN. 195 

contented himself with recommending to General Wayne a 
watchful vigilance over the movements of other portions of 
the army in his immediate vicinity, and advising him to draw 
the refractory line to the western side of the Delaware, for 
the purpose of rendering it more difficult for the enemy to 
tamper with them in their present state of excitement. 

The executive council of Pennsylvania having yielded to 
the demands of the mutinous soldiers, the consequences of 
this successful violence soon became apparent in the conduct 
of the other divisions of the American army. A considerable 
portion of the Jersey brigade took up arms, turned out, and 
made demands similar to those so successfully asserted by 
their neighbours of Pennsylvania; and there was reason to 
fear that a general disaffection would ere long manifest itself 
by similar effects in other divisions. 

Washington, who deliberated with great caution, acted 
with celerity when he had decided. He had foreseen the con- 
sequences of complying with demands which, though just, 
were ill-timed, and made in a manner destructive to all mili- 
tary discipline. Perceiving also that in all probability every 
additional example of successful mutiny would be a signal 
for others, he determined at once to take prompt and decisive 
measures towards the Jersey brigade. He directed the Ame- 
rican General Howe to march against the new mutineers ; to 
make no terms with them under any circumstances; and 
whether they surrendered their arms, or resisted by force, to 
seize and hang a few of their ringleaders in the presence of 
their confederates. No resistance was made to General 
Howe ; the mutineers laid down their arms ; two of the most 
active were shot, and the remainder returned to their duty to 
a country which nothing but a series of hardship and priva- 
tions, difficult for the most patriotic to beat, had prompted 
them, in a moment of impatient suffering, to desert. 

Presuming that these ominous lessons might carry with 



196 IIFK OF WABfllNQTON. 

them an influence which all his own unanswerable represen- 
tations had failed to exercise, "Washington seized this crisis 
to renew them. He wrote a circular letter, referring to the 
events juet related, and urging on the states the fulfilment of 
their engagements to the suffering soldiery. While he repre- 
hended their conduct, he pointed out the justice of their com- 
plaints. They were frequently in want of provisions, and 
one of the usual modes of procuring 8upj)lie8, only to be jun- 
titjed by the law of necessity, was sending out parties to 
seize them wherever they were to be found. Such expedi- 
ents, besides being necessarily uncertain, carry with them the 
grossest violation of the right of property, accompanied bj' 
insult and all the aggravations of lawless violence. Nothing 
can operate more powerfully to render a people disaffected to 
the noblest principles than a resort to such desperate mea- 
sures ; and that the inhabitants of the United States so gen- 
erally remained faithful to a cause which entailed upon them 
the wrongs, not only of enemies, but of friends, is a proof of 
patriotism which should be remembered with gratitude by 
their posterity. 

Believing, as I do, that the life and actions of Washington 
exhibit one series of the finest moral lessons to be found in 
those of any other hero, ancient or modern, and that his 
military fame, high as it is, must yield the palm to his wisdom 
and his virtues, I am the more solicitous to dwell on those 
situations which, though they perhaps may not excite the ad- 
miration of such as delight only in brilliant victories and 
boundless conquests, are far more worthy the imitation of 
mankind. It is my peculiar object to make my young readers 
fully sensible of his patriotism, his fortitude, his patience, his 
forbearance, his firmness, his perseverance, his integrity, and 
his disinterestedness. I wish to show them that there has been 
at least one man in the world who could not only resist the long- 
continued torrent of difficulties, disappointments, and mortifi- 



WPE OF WASHINffTON. 197 

cations which are accustomed to overpower others ; but, what 
is far more rare and admirable, triumph without effort over 
the allurements of that fatal ambition, which, like the dragon 
in the Revelation, has drawn a third, yea, ninety-nine in a 
hundred, of the stars from heaven, and cast them to the earth. 

In estimating the greatness of his character, we are not to 
consider the vastness of his actions, but the difficulties of their 
performance, and the great qualities necessary to vanquish 
them. In this respect he stands superior to all who have yet 
followed him : and as the consequences of his actions have 
been, and are likely to be, more lasting and beneficial than 
those of any patriot of any age or country ; so were they the 
result of a rare combinations of virtue and intellect, that places 
him on a level with the mighty train of events to which he so 
materially assisted in giving birth. For these reasons, I dwell 
most particularly on those difficulties which called forth his 
virtues, and furnished their best illustration. 

While thus surrounded by half-starved, half-clothed, mutin- 
ous soldiers, Washington, during the winter of 1781, com- 
menced a military journal, the contents of which are peculiarly 
interesting. It begins with enumerating the wants of his army. 
While dwelling on this melancholy record, my youthful 
readers, should they reflect a single moment, cannot but 
pause, with mingled sympathy and admiration, on the man 
who, in the midst of such difficulties, never despaired. For 
myself, it is only since I first entered on this attempt to deline- 
ate the character of the Father of his Country, that I have be- 
come fally sensible of his claim to that most noble and affect- 
ing of all titles a nation or a monarch can bestow. Had he 
served the latter, he might perhaps have become a noble ; but 
the goddess of liberty, through the universal voice of her vo- 
taries, bestowed on him a title greater than that of Monarch 
of the World. He thus gives the summary of his means, or 
rather his deficiencies ;— « 



198 tIFB or WASHINeTON. 

Instead of having magazines filled with provisions, he had 
only a scanty pittance, scattered at far distances, and often 
out of hia reach. 

Instead of arsenals well supplied, he had scarcely any,- 
aad these the workmen were fast abandoning for want of 

pay- 
Instead of necessary field-equipage, the quarter-master- 

general was just at the time applying to the states to pro- 
vide it. 

Instead of a regular system of transportation, and funds to 
defray the expense, he had neither one nor the other. The 
whole was done by a resort to coercion ; forcing the people to 
contribute the means, and thus souring their tempers and ali- 
enating their affections . 

Instead of regiments, completed according to the recom- 
mendations of Congress, and his own urgent remonstrances, 
scarcely a single state had more than one-eighth of its quota in 
the field. 

" In a word" he adds, " instead of having every thing in 
readiness to take the field we have nothing ; and instead of 
having the prospect of a glorious offensive campaign before 
ns, we have a bewildered apprehension of a defensive one, 
unless we should receive a powerful aid of ships, troops, and 
money from our generous allies, and these at present are too 
contingent to depend upon." 

In this situation, labouring under the weight of difficulties, 
not one of which can be traced to any neglect of his own, and 
which year after year he had laboured to prevent, Washington 
remained true to himself and his country. He neither remitted 
his zeal nor his exertions, but continued right onward in the 
path pointed out by his high destinies and duty. His deter- 
mination strengthened with his difficulties, and that which 
discouraged others only animated him to persevere. He had 
faith in himself, faith in the justice of his cause, faith in the 



hirS OF WASHINGTON. 199 

protection of Heaven, and he went forward on his dark ca- 
reer, hoping every day to emerge into a clearer sky and a 
brighter sunshine. 

During the campaign of 1781, the war raged principally in 
the neighbourhood of New York, and in the South. It 
brought with it little success, and awakened no new hopes. 
Washington remained in the North, hoping to be able to take 
advantage of the diminution of British force in the former 
place, in consequence of the large detachments sent against 
the latter. All he could, he did, by giving his best advice to 
Congress, and to the officers in command at the South, and 
using every effort to employ Sir Henry Clinton in the North in 
such a way as to prevent his still further reinforcing Com- 
wallis in the Carolinas. He even diminished his own little 
force in the Highlands, by sending important relief to that 
quarter, now groaning under the weight of a powerful and 
vigorous invader. 

His manly disinterestedness appeared, not only in thus di- 
vesting himself of the means of acquiring glory, perhaps of 
the power of avoiding defeat and disgrace, but in a private act 
which deserves equally to be remembered. "While the British 
fleet was lying in the Potomac, in the vicinity of Mount Ver- 
non, a message was sent to the overseer, demanding a supply 
of fresh provisions. The usual penalty of a refusal was setting 
fire to the house and bams of the owner. To prevent this 
destruction of property, the overseer, on receipt of the mes- 
sage, gathered a supply of provisions, and went himself on 
board with a flag, accompanying the present with a request 
that the property of the general might be spared. 

Washington was exceedingly indignant at this proceeding, 
as will appear by the following extract of a letter to his over- 
seer. 

" It would," he writes, "have been a less painful circum- 
gtance to me to have heard that, in consequence of your non- 



200 LIFE OF WlBHlNGTON. 

compbance with the request of the British, they had burned 
my house, and laid my plantation in ruins. You ought to 
have considered yourself as my representative, and should 
have reflected on the bad example of communicating with the 
enemy, and making a voluntary offer of refreshment to them 
with a view to prevent a conflagration." 

To the diminution of his forces, and the increasing disaffec- 
tion of those that remained under his command, was now 
added a quarrel between the states of Vermont and New 
York, originating in a dispute about their respective bounda- 
ries. Congress had interfered by an act of mediation, which 
did not satisfy either party and of consequence produced only 
additional irritation. AVashington at once saw the conse- 
quences of a division of the state and with that paternal 
solicitude which, more than any thing else, entitles him to the 
appellation of Father of his Country, wrote to the Governor of 
Vermont, desiring to know the real grounds of the contro- 
versy, and the designs of the people of that state. The gover- 
nor frankly replied, that ''they were determined not to be 
placed under the government of New York ; that they would 
oppose this by force of arms, and join with the British in 
Canada rather than submit to that government." Such a 
resolution as this menaced the dissolution of the confederacy, 
and consequent ruin of the cause in which so much blood had 
been shed, and so many hardships endured. In this state of 
things, Washington addressed another letter to the Governor of 
Vermont, characterized by such a temperate wisdom, such a 
weight of argument, such nice impartiality, and such profound 
good sense, that it wrought upon the Legislature of Vermont 
to pause, and finally to accept tlie propositions of Congress. 
The danger which menaced the ruin of our home and our 
country was thus arrested ; and again were they indebted, in 
a great degree, for their preservation to the guardian spirit of 
wisdom, virtue, and moderation which had so often watched 



JLIFB OF WASH1N»T0N, 201 

over them in the hour of peril and darkness. It was not alone 
in the day of battle that his decisive influence was seen and 
felt. It was active, vigilant, and untiring, everywhere and 
at all times ; and whether the storm approached from within 
or from without, whether by night or by day, it ever found 
him active and at the helm, ready and able to protect the ship 
equally from the mountain wave, the secret rock, or boiling 
whirlpool. 

The campaign of 1780, which had ended without advantage, 
commenced with little prospect of better times in 1 781. The 
genius of Washington was naturally ardent, if not impetuous ; 
and though through the whole course of the war he had been 
compelled to act on the defensive, the history of his life and 
actions proves, that when opportunity offered, or circumstances 
justified it, he always preferred decisive measures to cautious 
delays. It was necessity alone that prevented his giving, 
rather than avoiding battle. He never turned his back on aa 
enemy, except when it was madness to face him. He felt 
that the destinies of his country were confided to his care, and 
that for the gratification of his own personal feelings, or the 
chance of gaining a brilliant renown, he had no right to gam- 
ble with such a mighty stake. Hence we find him continually 
risking his own fame by cautious delays and timely retreats, 
but never the safety of his country by intemperate rashness. 
The course of other heroes is only marked by tombs and deso- 
lation. They left nothing behind them but ruins, while the 
fruit of his labours is an emancipated world. 

One great object of his solicitude had always been to dis- 
lodge the British from the city of New York; and, as ha? 
been before related, this was the basis of the plan first pre- 
sented to the Trench admiral, on his arrival in this country. 
That object was prevented by an accession of force to thy 
British fleet, which deprived the French of the superiority ne-. 
X 5 



202 LIVK OF WASUlNarON. 

ceesaiy to its success. But it was not relinquished by Wash- 
ington, who was fully aware of the great advantages which 
the British derived from the possession of a central port, ac- 
cessible at all seasons of the year, and situated at the mouth 
ol a great river, the command of which, could it be complete- 
ly attained, would separate the confederation of the states 
into two parts, and prevent their co-operation with each 
other. 

Thus, whenever Sir Henry Clinton diminished his force in 
New York by detachments to the South or East, Washington 
■was on the watch to take advantage of the occasion ; justly 
considering that the fall of that city would, in all probabilitj', 
be decisive of the war. A plan for this purpose had been 
drafted at Hartford, by himself. Count Rochambeau, and other 
officers of distinction, and it was, while absent on this oc- 
casion, that Arnold took the opportunity of arranging his 
treasonable plot with Major Andre. 

The finances of the United States were now in a desperat 
condition. Paper-money was worth absolutely nothing, and 
they had no other. Credit was so far exhausted, that the 
farmers had no longer any faith in the promises of Congress. 
The event of the great struggle for liberty seemed every day 
more and more doubtful, and should it prove disastrous, those 
promises would be of no value. In this state of things 
Colonel Laurens, an ardent patriot, a gallant soldier, and an 
accomplished gentleman, was deputed by Congress to re- 
present their difficulties to the court of France. 

He canned with him a letter from Waahiugtou, stating in 
clear and distinct terms the situation of affairs, and the pros- 
pects of the future. It set forth tliat the United States had 
been compelled to a series of exertions beyond their strength, 
and of contributions which had exhausted their natural re- 
sources ; that any revenue they were capable of raising would 
be entirely insufficient to enable them to continue that war ; 



LIFE OF WABHINOTON. 203 

that forced contributions had, from necessity, been frequently 
resorted to, and, if continued longer, would entirely alienate 
the affections of the people, and produce a revolution in 
the public feeling fatal to the success of the allies; that 
besides this serious objection, the temporary supplies thus 
procured were totally inadequate to the wants of the 
army ; that the patience of the troops was entirely exhausted, 
and mutinies of a serious and alarming nature had occurred 
in consequence ; that a loan of money by France was abso- 
lutely necessary to revive public credit, and give vigour to 
future operations ; and that, next to this, a naval superiority 
in the American seas was equally indispensable to the success 
of any enterprise that might be undertaken. 

He also urged the capacity of the United States to repay 
any loan that might be granted, they having both resources 
and inclination. These representations, aided by the favour- 
able influence of the ability and address of Colonel Laurens 
and the weight of Franklin, then minister to the court 
of Versailles, proved successful. The French government 
loaned six milious of livres, and guarantied the payment of 
ten millions from the States of Holland. In addition to 
this, the promise of a powerful naval support was pledged. 

Accordingly, in tlie following spring an armament of twenty- 
five sail of the line, having on board a considerable body of 
land forces, sailed from the port of Brest, destined to assist 
in putting the last hand to a struggle that had now endure^ 
for seven long, suffering, and wearisome years. Preparatory 
to the arrival of this reinforcement despatches were received 
by Count Eochambeau, and an interview was had shortly 
after at Wethersfield, between the count and Washington, ac- 
corapained by some of their principal officers. Here a de- 
finitive plan was agreed upon for the ensuing campaign, the 
principal point of which was an attack on New York, im- 
mediately on the arrival of Count de Grasse. 



2<H IllflC Oir WAHIIINfllTKN. 

^VltHlllllf(('<)l>, III oiilci lliiil liii iiiir/lil I'l' <-iml)lr(l (.1) (:(i-(i|)(>rii(r 
wiHi III" IritiK'li Cori'it on lliln nrciinioii in ii tniiiiticr l.liiil. iinxlifc 
iikT illH|{rit('n llio niiiHo .mil llii^ cuiiiilry, now onro ii|{iiiii nrgiid 
tlin c<nMt.tirii niiili-n, ninl iitlii-m ilnhi h'n(. in l.linr roH|i(*cUva 
i|iio(iin of liuii|in, In nil ii|i llii-ii nuikn, anil liold (linni in 
rrndinfHB wlmn ociiiiwion ii'i|iiiriiil. 'I'hn licnili iinil AniiM'ican 
foirrn wnn now In niolion. 'I'lin fornuM' nmiclwd from lliiod)i 
iHlntiil, inid VVnnliiii((lon Irfl. Inn i|inii'ttw'H in iUti lliKldiindii, 
fiiiiii wlioiHc 111! rniiiKviMl IiiwiuiIm KinKi)liridK«- <itMi('iai Lin- 
roln loll down «l. Ilm niinio (inn< Willi ii body of lioojm iii 
lioiilri, iind look |iiinnrnMiiiii of llin wilii of old l''oil, liidn- 
|iitndiMiri-. In r<innri|iirnrn of Ijiciiii ronilnnod inovrincniH tlifl 
r<niniiv li'll liiK oiil|ioHtH, iind «;oni'rnliitlrd liirt wliolo foitro oil 
\'oik Inlnnd. NolliitiK win now wiinliiiK lo i\u' i oinniiMiro- 
IIKMil.niid III III! |ii oliiiliilil V lliiiil liri'(>ili|ilinliiiiiiiil , nf II grnil. 
olijtirl, wliloli \\'iinliiii|jr|nii iind Ioiik rlirnnlird, liiil. Iliii |if-i*nif|irn 
of II Hii|iiii loi I'mnrli lli'id.. 'I'lio niriiiy would llirii linvi* li(*on 
4-oo|iiid lip ill tlio Illy, iiinl 11 nri'iii- wliK'li witH mil. long itf(;(ir> 
wnrdu iirlod nl \ oililown, in \ iiK>><>a, niif(lil' liiivn Iii'imi cx- 
lillilli'd III Now \ Oilt, III Mm hIkIo of lluil, iiniiio. 

I'.MTy |iii-|miiilioii wiliiin llir powor of Wnwliingloii wnn 
niiidii lo KMiili'i' llir niirrcnN of llii!i drrinivn nioiiaiiro ('crlitlii. 
Iliil. it. w iin inrrliiH doMliny lo iiMciii|il. k>''*i''' oiijiu'ln wifll 
Itlllo niintnn. In npilo of all liin icpriTii-nlitlioiiM lo llio nxit- 
«Millvo aiillioi lllrn of llio nlitlrn, wiirii llio (•\pi-i-lod liiiin of 
lu^lioii t'liiiio Inn iiiiiiy wail iiii^iiii'iitril only a few luiiidii'd 
nitui licyoiid llii< iiiiiiiIiit lliat had It'll IIkmi' wiiilrr ipiintiMH III 
llio I IikIiIiiiiiIm IIo appraiiMJ Iii'Ioik Mio oIIK-cih and Holdioi'M 
uf llio alliiTi, uilli w lioiii liK had, III noiiio dcKiiu', covt'iiuiitiul 
nil I'llliii'iil iiii|i|ioil, ail oiin who had foifiMlcd IiIn i'iifraK<'iii(>ii(<' 
mill pioiiiiHcd what lit^ t^illun- roiild not or would iiof. pi'rforiii. 
Ill' Munlii'd for Inn oounlrv, and Iiimk'"'"' Mpinl, whu'li iu'IMmt 
inlnfoi luiii', nor difiappoinlinoiil. nor dniiffm , nor diHUully 
niiild dniiiil, liowi'd down ii( llio HiiB|iion.»n «»f « WAul uf fnith. 



IIFB OF WASHINOTOK. 205 

But it was only for a moment. Such wa8 Iuh character for 
honour and truth, that none ever thought of blaming him for 
these deficiencies ; and Buch his noble consciounnesH of alwayn 
doing the best for his country, that even disappointment could 
not long cast him down. 

But while the rulers of the states were thus deficient in the 
performance of tht'*- duties, a higher Power was watching over 
the great interests of freedom, and converting the usual causes 
of defeat into the means of achieving a glorious victory. 
Fortunately, the omission of the states to send their recruits 
in time, had delayed the commencement of the siege of New 
York until the last of July. At this period Cornwallis, in con- 
sequence of having been hard pushed by Greene, had taken a 
position near the Capes of Virginia. A brief summary of the 
causes that led to the retreat of fornwallisfrom the Carolinas, 
is not only proper it) enable my young readers to comprehend 
the present situation of affairs, but in justice to the singular 
merits of the distinguished officer by whose consummate skiU 
and gallantry that decisive event was brought about. 

After the fortunate failure of the intrigue to displace Wash- 
ington and appoint General Gates to the command-in-chief, 
that officer was sent to defend South Carolina, then pressed 
by the enemy, and in a state of imminent danger. His conduct 
in the South did not sustain the reputation he had gained in 
North, and he soon verified the prediction of his fellow-s*>l- 
dier, General Charles Lee, who foretold that his northern laurels 
would wither in the southern sun. He imprudently risked 
battle, was signally defeated at Camden by Comwallis, and 
driven out of South Carolina. In this disastrous battle 
perished the Earon De Kalb, a brave Prussian soldier, who 
had voluntarily sought our shores for the purpose of giving the 
aid of his courage and exfjerience to the cause of freedom. 

At the head of the continental troops, who alone stood the 
brunt of the battle, the militid bavmg fied igaomioiously at the 



206 hlFE OF WASHINQTON. 

first tire, he maintained a gallant resistance for nearly at 
hour, during which the bayonet was several times resorted to 
on both sides. He fell at length, fighting in front of his 
troops, covered with eleven wounds, and was received into 
the arms of Colenel De Buisson, Avho was bayoneted while de- 
manding quarter for his general. The brave old soldier expired 
shortly after: the lai9t act of his life was dictating a letter 
bearing honourable testimony to the bravery of his troops, 
and his latest breath was spent in expressing his attachment 
to the cause in the support of which he laid down his life. His 
services and his death entailed a debt of gratitude on South 
Carolina which she has lately repaid by the honourable testi- 
mony of a monument to his memory. 

A few months after the affair of Camden, Congress passed a 
Resolution directing Washington to institute a court of incjuiry 
into the conduct of the man, who, not long before, a con- 
siderable number of its members had thought worthy of su- 
perseding him. They likewise authorized him to appoint an- 
other officer to succeed General Gates in the southeren com- 
mand, without designating any one. This gave Washington 
an opportunity of exercising his own judgment, which he 
did in a manner that, while it displayed his sagacity, merited 
the gratitude of the country. To a delegate from South Caro- 
lina he wrote, " I think I am giving you a general ; but what 
can a general do without men, without arms, without 
clothing, without stores, without provisions?" 

The officer selected was General Nathaniel Greene, born at 
Warwick, in the state of llhode Island, of a respectable family 
of Friends, Avhose doctrine of non-resistance he abjured at the 
call of his countr}-. In his youth he is said to have been of a 
grave, steady, reflecting character, fond of study, and es- 
pecially devoted to the military science. He had attained a 
high station as a merchant, when the battle of Lexington 
roused the spirit of every American that had any spirit, and. 



LI^E OF WASHINGTON. 207 

immediately after, we find Greene at the head of three regi- 
ments at Cambridge, with the rank of brigadier-general. He 
soon attracted the particular notice of Washington, who saw 
into the souls of men, and in 1776 was raised to the rank Of 
major-general. He distinguished himself at Trenton, Prince- 
ton, Germantown, Monmouth, Khode Island, and everywhere 
that opportunity offered, and gradually rose to the highest 
rank in the estimation of Washington, as well as of his 
country. 

Congress having delegated the task to the commander-in- 
chief, he appointed General Greene to the army of the South, a 
station that promised little else than defeat and disgrace. 
But it was given in the confidence of friendship, and accepted 
with the ardour of patriotism. The country was overrun, if 
not subjugated, by the enemy. The disaffected were in arms 
against their country, and those who loved, almost despaired 
of her safety. A foreign enemy was lording it over all the 
low country, an internal one betraying it on every side. Ma- 
rion, Sumpter, Moultrie, Pickens, Horry, Shelby, Cleveland, 
and other gallant soldiers, occasionally, indeed, checked the 
career of Rawdon, Tarlton, and Ferguson, while the Rut- 
ledges, the Pinckneys, and other noble patriots, still stood 
firm at the helm, though the vessel was reeling. But, what- 
ever might be their talents and their will, they could not 
make head against a superior and veteran array, furnished 
with every thing necessary to effective warfare, flushed with 
success, and commanded by an active general, who had been 
taught by Washington, at Trenton and Princeton, not to sleep 
on his post. 

Such is briefly a sketch of the situation of affairs when 
General Greene undertook what seemed the almost hopeless 
task of recovering the country from the hands of the enemy. 
But there ia nothing impossible to valour, activity, and pru- 
dence. Aided by Morgan and Howard, and those brave spirits 



208 LIFE OF WASHINaxON. 

just named, he commenced the task, which he accomplished 
in a manner to merit the lasting gratitude of his country, and 
the second place in its heart. His defeats were turned into 
victories by the bravery with which he fought, and the skill 
and activity by which he retrieved his fortunes. Comwallis 
gained a bloody field, and nothing else. His first step after 
winning a battle was to retreat, for his enemy seemed to rise 
stronger from every blow. Brave, persevering,' skilful, and 
indefatigable, General Greene appeared to live without sleep 
or repose ; and during the space of months that the fate of the 
South hung on every passing moment, he never once changed 
his garments. 

At length the moment arrived. Having been obliged to 
cross the river Congaree, he was followed by Lieutenant- 
Colonel Stewart, who took post at Eutaw Springs, among the 
the High Hills of Santee. Here he was attacked by Greene, 
and received a severe check, decisive of the war in that quar- 
ter of the Union. Previous to this well-contested action. 
Lord Cornwallis had abandoned the Carolinas for Virginia, 
and after various fortunes entrenched himself at York Town, 
agreeably to the directions of Sir Henry Clinton. Thus, with 
a handful of soldiers, new-raised, half-clothed, half-armed, 
and often half-starved, but at the same time brave, determined, 
and persevering, did this distinguished officer, nobly aided by 
the patriots of the South, in the space of nine months chase 
from their conquests a veteran army, superior in numbers 
every way abundantly supplied, and commanded by officers of 
great activity and experience. Often was he obliged to ask 
bread of his own soldiers, when they were themselves on the 
verge of starving. Like his great examjjle and leader, he 
never despaired. When, in the lowest state of his aflPairs, he 
was advised to retire into Virginia, his reply was " I will re- 
cover South Carolina or die." 

Ge»eral Greene was rather above the middle size, of a fine 



tIFE OF WASHINQTONi 20^ 

person, dignified demeanour, keen quick eye, a quicker appre- 
heneion, a mind capable of grasping the most comprehensive 
schemes, and arranging the most discordant materials. He 
possessed unconquerable firmness and determination ; his dis- 
position was equally frank and sincere ; his principles those of 
the highest integrity ; hi^ manners kind and unaffected, and his 
■whole deportment that of a polished gentleman. He died in 
the state of Georgia, of a stroke of the sun, in the forty- 
seventh year of his age, leaving behind him a name and fame, 
lasting as the high hills of Santee, and pure as the Eutaw 
Springs. 

About the period that Cornwallis took post at Yorktown, 
Sir Henry Clinton received a reinforcement of three thousand 
Germans in NewYork. This increased his strength to such 
an extent as to make it an almost hopeless attempt on the part 
of Washington to commence the siege, to which he had so long 
anxiously looked forward. Intelligence being also received 
from Count de Grasse that his destination was Chesapeake 
Bay, these circumstances contributed to produce a total change 
in the whole plan of the campaign. Washington directed his 
attention to the Souih,and the attack^on New- York was aban- 
doned. 

But still the appearance of such a design was carefully kept 
up for the purpose of deceiving Sir Henry Clinton, and pre- 
venting his sending succours to Cornwallis, who it appears had 
strongly urged him, and received his promise of large reinforce- 
ments. The design of Washington was rendered completely 
successful by a perseverance on his part in all the usual pre- 
parations for a siege, and most especially by the fortunate in- 
terception of a letter written by him at the time when it was 
really his intention to attack New York, detailing minutely 
the plan of the intended operations against the city. Nothing 
could be more fortunate than the destination of this letter. It 
fortified Sir Henry so strongly in the impression that a siege 



210 LirK OF WASmNOTON. 

was determined upon, even after it waa abandoned, that no- 
thing could shake his conviction. He remained shut up in his 
cage, strengthening his defences and husbanding his force, un- 
til the allied army was far on its way to Virginia. He then 
prepared to reinforce Cornwallis, but, as will be seen in 
the sequel, he was just five days too late. The tide of 
events, like that of the ocean, waits for no man, and the 
loss of a day, an hour, or a minute , often decides the fate of 
nations. 

It was towards the end of August that Washington left the 
neighbourhood of New York, after having so fullyi mpressed 
the British commander with the idea that his intention was to 
lay siege to the city, that he at first considered this movement 
a mere feint to deceive him. It was not till too late to over- 
take the combined armies, that he became certain that their 
real destination was for the South. 

Sensible that the success of the design against Cornwallis 
depended altogether on anticipating the reinforcements it was 
presumed Sir Henry Clinton would send him, as soon as his 
apprehensions for the safety of New York were removed, 
Washington proceeded with all possible celerity towards the 
he?d of Chesapeake Bay. He made a rapid march through 
Jersey and Pennsylvania ; received at Chester the news of the 
arrival of the French fleet under Count de Grasse, and embark- 
ing the principal part of his ai-my at the head of Elk, proceeded 
forthwith to Williamsburg. From thence he went on board 
the French admiral, where the plan of operations was settled. 

The departure from New York was the signal for an inva- 
sion of Connecticut by the enemy. Arnold, who had gathered 
new wreaths of infamy since his attempt to betray his country, 
by ravaging Virginia, now volunteered to invade his native 
state. The last time we hear of him in the history of the war, 
is in connection with an atfair which gave the final blot to his 
already blackened name. 'J'he storming of Fort Griswold, th« 



JJIFE OF WASHIN6H0N. 311 

death of the brave Colonel Ledyard, the massacre of the garri- 
son, and .the burning of New London, constitute the closing 
chapter of his life of shame and guilt, and give the finish to 
his infamous career. We hear of him no more ; and for the 
honour of my country, I could wish his name and his treasons 
were buried in oblivion, were it not for the great moral les- 
son exhibited in the punishment of his guilt. His after-life 
was one of shame and mortification : by his countrymen he 
was quoted as the solitary example of treachery during the 
whole war ; by those who bought him, he was despised as a 
worthless purchase; by his contemporaries he was treated 
with unmitigated scorn : and by posterity he is and ever will 
be abhorred. Time, that is every day giving new sanctity, 
and conferring new honours on the name of Washington, and 
all those faithful servants who persevered to the last through 
peril and disappointment in serving their country, only adds 
sharper thorns to the crown of his shame, and increases the 
contempt and detestation of the world. The infamy of Arnold 
is equally immortal with the fame of Washington. 

The moment was now swiftly approaching which had been 
looked forward to, sometimes in trembling hope, but oftener 
in stem despair. The crisis was come, and the question of 
eight years mooting was now to be decided. Cornwallis, at 
the head of upwards of seven thousand men, with a great 
train of artillery, had taken a position at York, a small town 
at the northern verge of the peninsula, between York and 
James Rivers, about eight miles wide. The town occupies 
the summit of a high abrupt bank, on the south side of the 
river, which is here a noble sti'eam, upwards of ten fathoms 
deep, and a mile wide. His lordship has been blamed for 
cooj^ing his army up in a place from whence there was no es- 
cape in case of defeat ; but his own letters explain his reasons. 
He calculated on the superiority of the British naval force, 
which would at all times afford him the means of escape, 



212 LIFE OF WASHrNOTON. 

and the facility of receiving reinforcements from Sir Henry 

Clinton. 

Tile arrival of Count de Grasse with twenty-five ships of 
the line destroyed one ground of hope, and the delays of Sir 
Henry were equally fatal to the other. He saw himself be- 
sieged by a superior army, animated by the hope, nay, the 
certainty of success, and inspired by a noble emulation ; every 
day increased his difficulties, and diminished his hopes of suc- 
cour; new batteries were raised on all sides against him, 
while his own defences fell, one after another the Americans 
and French vied in acts of gallantry ; and at the expiration 
of a few days his situation became desperate. On the nine- 
teenth of October, 1781, a second British array deposited its 
arms at the feet of American soldiers, and the plain of York 
became for ever illustrious as the spot where the struggle for 
liberty was finally closed, and the award of Pro'ddence given 
in favour of its defenders. 

The actors in the closing scene of that great revolution, 
whose consequences are beyond all calculation as to the fu- 
ture, deserve to be remembered with honour. It is needless 
to mention Washington. He was the soul that animated the 
war, the genius which directed it, the presiding spirit of va- 
lour, prudence, and decision. Among the bright, though lesser 
stars, was Lafayette, the steady friend, the gallant soldier, the 
virtuous patriot ; Hamilton, whose genius equally fitted him 
for whatever he luidertook, whether in war or in peace ; 
Laurens, the Chevalier Bayard of the South ; 'N'iomenil, Lin- 
coln, Knox, Du Porta il, Steuben, Rochefontaine, and many 
others who deserN-ed well of our country, and bore a brave 
hand in her deliverance. Nor must the name of Nelson be 
forgotten on this occasion. At the head of the militia of Vir- 
ginia his gallantry was not a whit behind that of the regulars, 
and his patriotic disinterestedness deserves to be remembered 
among the honourable examples of the war. 



LIFE or wASHiNOTorir, 213 

He possessed the fiuest house in York, which Was occupied 
by the enemy. Perceiving that, from a delicate consideration 
for his interests, the American artillerists avoided directing 
their pieces to that particular spot, he proclaimed a reward 
of a guinea for every shot that should be lodged in his house. 
In a few mmutes it became too hot for the occupants, and 
was abandoned, though not before it had been well riddled 
with balls. 

The force surrendered Ijy Cornwall is amounted to more 
than seven thousand men, with a train of upwards of one 
hundred and sixty pieces of cannon. The site where the 
British laid down their arms is still pointed out by the people 
of York ; and the scene itself was grand and affecting. The 
captured army marched to the spot in silence, and was re- 
ceived in silence by crowds of spectators, French and Ameri- 
cans, who lined the path through which they passed. The 
latter preserved a high and magnanimous decorum ; not a 
smile was seen, or a word heard, indicative of triumph or ex- 
ultation ; and all seemed struck with the contrast so often 
presented in the vicissitudes of human life. The terror of the 
wives and children of our country, the active and indefatigable 
Cornwallis, the boasted conqueror of the South, was now 
about to deliver his army and his sword into the hands of 
those he had always considered in the light of rebels to their 
sovereign. All eyes were turned in one direction, in expecta- 
tion of his coming ; but he came not. He shrunk from this 
trial of manhood, and deputed General O'Hara as his substi- 
tute in this humiliating trial. The scene had scarcely closed 
when Sir Henry Clinton appeared at the mouth of the Chesa- 
peake with a reinforcement equal in number to those who had 
just laid down their arms. But he came, like the sunshine 
after the storm, not to repair, but to witness the devastation. 
The news arrived that all was over with Cornwallis and 



214 tlFK OF WASHINGTON. 

his army, and the Britisli commander returned again to New 
York. 

The capture of Cornwallis awakened a thrill of rapture from 
one end of the United States to the other. It was everywhere 
hailed aa the finishing stroke of the war, the end of a long 
series of hardships and sufferings. There was scarcely a citj', 
town, or sequestered village throughout the whole wide cir- 
cuit of the Confederation that had not felt the scourge of 
war; few were the fields that escaped ravaging, or the houses 
that had not been plundered, and few the citizens but had suf- 
fered in their persons or propert}'. The whirlwind had not 
confined itself to one narrow track of devastation; it had 
crossed and recrossed its track in ever}'^ direction, and where- 
soever it passed, left its mark of ruin behind. 

No wonder then that the prospect of being for ever relieved 
from this scourge of nations, and of winning the great prize 
for which all these sufferings had been patiently endured, 
awakened the pulse of the whole people, and caused their 
eyes to sparkle and their cheeks to glow. At the dead of the 
night, a watchman in the streets of Philadelphia was heard to 
cry out, " Past twelve o'clock, and a jileasant morning — Corn- 
wallis is taken." All but the dead resting in their last sleep, 
awoke at this glorious annunciation. The city became alive 
at midnight ; the candles were lighted, and figures might be 
seen flitting past the windows, or pushing them up, to hear 
the sound repeated, lest it should have been nothing but a 
dream. The citizens ran through the streets to inquire into 
the truth ; they shook hands, they embraced each other, and 
they wept for joy. None slept again that night, and the dawn 
of the morning, which brought new confirmation of the happy 
tidings, shone on one of the most exulting cities that ever 
basked in the sunshine of joy. 

The news ran like fire on the prairies along every road, and 
through every by-place of the land. It seemed to fly on the 



1IPEX)P WASBflNQTON. 216 

wings of the wind, or to be borae by some invisible messenger. 
No one could tell from whence it came, but it came invested 
with a charm that rendered confirmation unnecessary. Every- 
body believed it, for all, even in the darkest days of the Revo- 
lution, had cherished a hope, which carried with it almost the 
force of inspiration, that Washington would, beyond all doubt, 
one day give liberty to his country. That hour was now 
come, and the souls of the people expanded with unutterable 
joy. For years they had stared misery in the face, and suf- 
fered in its iron grasp. They had reaped many harvests of 
bitterness, and they now expected to reap those of peace and 
plenty. They had passed through the dark valley of the 
shadow of death, and were now about to emerge into the 
regions of light. There was but one single united voice 
throughout the whole land, and that shouted the name of 
Washington the Deliverer of his Country. 



CHAPTER XVII. 

Events following the Capture of Cornwallis. The Combined Armies separate. 
Washington at Newburgh. Proceedings of the Army. His Address to the 
Officers, and its Eifects. Reflections on the conduct of Washington on that 
occasion. 

The capture of Cornwallis and his army may be considered 
the concluding scene of that great drama which had agitated 
a considerable portion of the Christian world, and of which 
it yet feels, and long will feel, the consequences. The revo- 
lutionary struggle of the States had finally involved France, 
Spain, and Holland in hostilities with England, and its ter- 
mination brought with it peace in the Old as well as the New 
World. The plan of operations against Yorktown was con- 
ceived with profound wisdom, and conducted with a skill and 



216 IIFS OF WASHINCITOK. 

vigour which, combined with good fortune; produced the 
signal succega it deserved. 

The day which succeeded an event so great in itself and its 
consequences, was signalized by the pardon and release of all 
officers and soldiers under arrest, .and divine service was 
ordered by Washington to be performed in the different 
brigades and divisions. Tiie whole army offered up its thanks 
with once voice to the God of battles, who had enabled them 
a second time to capture its enemies. The scene was solemn 
and affecting in the highest degree ; the soldier laid down 
those arms with which he had contpered man, at the foot of 
the throne of that good Being who created him, and bent his 
knee in humble gratitude. 

This duty being performed, the combined armies separated 
to go into winter quarters, after exchanging a final farewell. 
A portion of the French forces departed, under Count de 
Grasse, for the West Indies, and the remainder, under Count 
Rochambeau, remained in Virginia until the spring, when it 
left the country, followed by the blessings of those whom it 
had assisted to become free. Whoever may question the mo- 
tives of the French government for co-operating with the 
Americans in their revolutionary struggle, it cannot be denied 
that our country owes France a debt of gratitude. Whatever 
were the benefits ultimately derived from her good offices, or 
whether they resulted from jjolicy or friendship, the debt is 
substantially the same. Mankind have no right to vitiate the 
motives for a friendly act as an excuse for becoming ungrate- 
ful. 

Washington, after separating from the French army, pur- 
sued his way to the North, and resumed his old position on 
the Hudson, for the purpose of being ready to act, if neces- 
sary, against Sir Henry Clinton on the opening of the cam- 
paign. Though hoping the war was now brought to a close, 
be did not in the least remit his exertions to be prepared for 



tTlPfl .OV WASfftKfiftfON. 217 

its renewal. He saw the necessity of being ready for another 
campaign. " I shall endeavour," he writes to General Greene, 
who so nobly distinguished himself in the war of the South— 
** I shall endeavour to stimulate Congress to the best improve- 
ment of our success, by taking the most vigorous and efFec- 
taal measures to be ready for an early and decisive campaign 
the next year. My greatest fear is, that, viewing this stroke 
in a point of light which may too much magnify its import- 
ance, they may think our work too nearly closed, and fall into 
a state of languor and relaxation. To prevent this error I 
shall employ every means in my power ; and if unhappily we 
fall into this fatal mistake, no part of the blame shall be 
mine." 

Thus wisely did he ever seek to guard against the delusions 
of hope, as he had hitherto resisted the impulses of despair. 
But Congress either did not partake in his apprehensions, or 
neglected to provide against their consequences. The coun- 
< try would have been in a state probably worse than it was 
before, had the British government resolved on continuing the 
war, and made its preparations accordingly. But from the 
receipt of the news of the capture of Cornwallis, the ministry 
ceased to carry a majority of the House of Commons in favour 
of such a measure. Various motions were made for putting 
an end to the war, and finally a majority of that body passed 
a resolution, declaring " That the House would consider as 
enemies to his majesty and to the country all those who should 
advise or attempt the further prosecution of offensive war on 
the continent of America." The command of the British 
forces in this country was given to Sir Guy Carleton, with 
instructions to prepare the way for an accommodation by 
every proper means in his power. 

That officer accordingly opened a correspondence with Con- 
gress, earnestly proposing the appointment of commissioners 

E 



218 LIWB OF WASHINGTON. 

on their part to negociate a reconciliation. By the terms of 
the treaty of alliance between the United States and France, 
neither party could conclude a separate peace without the 
consent of the other, and the negociationa were transferred to 
Paris. Here, on the 30th of November, 1782, the provisional 
articles of a treaty were agreed on by John Adams, Benjamin 
Franklin, John Jay, and Henry Laurens, on the part of the 
United States, and Messrs. Fitzherberfc and Oswald on behalf 
of Great Britain. The definitive treaty of peace was, how- 
ever, not finally ratified until the 30th of September, 1783. It 
recognised the independence of the United States, and for 
ever abrogated the claims of Great Britain to the sovereignty. 
Thus, after a series of sacrifices as great as was perhaps 
ever made by any nation for the attainment of freedom, and 
an accumulation of sufferings, hardships, disappointments, and 
aggravated difficulties, which could only have been borne by 
a brave, steady, and virtuous people, the United States won 
for themselves a station among the independent nations of the 
earth. The price was high, but the blessing was well worth 
the purchase. It was liberty, without which man is little 
better in spirit and intellect than the brute that perishes. It 
is to liberty the people of the United States are indebted for 
all they are, all they will ever be. If, judging as we have a 
right to do, of the future by the past, the United States are, as 
I trust they are, destined to become, at no distant period, a 
rare and memorable example of successful enterprise, intellec- 
tual vigour, patriotic spirit, social virtue, and imequalled 
prosperity, if they ever justify by their future happiness and 
glory the predictions of philosophers and the hopes of the 
world, it will be owing entirely to their continuing to cherish 
in their heart of hearts, that liberty which was purchased for 
them by the blood of their fathers, aided by the virtue and he- 
roism of Washington. 
It might have been supposed, now that the great battle bad 



IIPE OV WASHINGTON. 219 

been fought and won, the country would have quietly reposed 
from its long struggles in the arms of peace, and that Wash- 
ington might now be permitted to return to Mount Vernon, to 
enjoy the long-coveted blassings of retirement, under the shade 
of his laurels. But though the wind no longer whistled, the 
waves had not yet subsided. 

As the excitement of war died away, and the soldiers of the 
revolution ceased to fear for the safety and independence of 
their country, they began to think of themselves. Previously 
discontented by what they considered the neglect of Congress 
to provide for their wants, and pay them their dues, they now 
became violently agitated by indignation and despair, when it 
was known they were about to be disbanded in all probability 
without their just demands being complied with. They had 
already petitioned Congress, and deputed a committee of offi- 
cers to represent their claims to that body. Both their ap- 
prehensions and indignation had been aggravated by neglect 
and delay. Hitherto nothing had been done to quiet their 
fears, or administer to their necessities. 

In this critical state of affairs, when nothing but pouring oil 
on the troubled waters could have allayed their fury, an ano- 
nymous paper was circulated among the troops at that time 
assembled at Newburgh and its vicinity, inviting a meeting 
of the general and field-officers for the purpose of consulting 
on the measures most effectual for procuring that redress of 
grievances, which they had hitherto solicited in vain. This 
paper was accompanied by an address to the officers of the 
army, most eminently and adroitly calculated to produce mis- 
chief. 

It pleaded the motives and services of the writer; the 
claims of the soldiers of the revolution ; the cold neglect of 
Congress ; and urged the probability of a final refusal to com- 
ply with their just requisitions. It painted the situation of 
the officers and soldiers, if they suffered themselves to be dis* 



220 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

banded and sent home to enjoy the remnant of a miserable life 
in rags, povertj^, and contempt ; it called upon them to " carry 
their appeal from the justice to the fears of the government ;^'^ 
and it distinctly pointed out the course proper to be pursued 
by the army in case of a " war" with Congress. It recom- 
mended that, '^courting the auspices, and inviting the direction 
of their illustrious leader, they should retire to some uiisettled 
wilderness, smile in their turn^ and mock when their fear 
Cometh." The whole of this address was couched in strong 
and glowing terms. It had one bad recommendation ; it suited 
the feelings of the army and the purposes of the writer, and 
may thus far lay claim to the admiration it has received, as a 
piece of eloquent declamation. 

When the minds of men are balancing on the very extremes 
of passionate impatience, a feather will turn the scale ; and 
thus an address which would have brought men moderately 
excited to their senses, by the violence of its suggestions, in- 
flamed the irritated soldiers almost to madness. Such was 
the extreme excitement at this, one of the most dangerous 
moments in the existence of our country, that a fiery address 
which in ordinary times would have been perfectly innoxious^ 
now operated like a spark which, destined only to live for a 
moment, produces a conflagration, the effects of which are 
seen for ages afterwards. 

At no period in the life of Washington was he placed in. a 
situation to test more severely his sterling integrity and pa- 
triotism. The advice of the writer of the address to the army 
had too plainly indicated what was expected from him in case 
their demands were not satisfied. It was evident it was an- 
ticipated that he would finally lend himself to the views of 
the writer, and if called upon by the troops, become their 
leader in overthrowing that newly-erected edifice of liberty, 
of which he was the great architect. Whatever may have 
been the sincerity of the writer of this address in recommend-» 



LIFE OP WASHIN&TON, 221 

ing a retirement 'Uo some unsettled wilderness,''* it must be 
evident to all, that had the army rebelled against the consti- 
tuted authorities of the country, it would not have retired to 
the wilderness unless driven there. A civil war would have 
been the consequence, and despotism is ever the result of civil 
war. Had Washington been like the vast herd of heroes that 
deform the pages of history, he might, perhaps, by taking ad- 
vantage of the discontents of the army, have become the sub- 
jugator instead of the deliverer of his country. He might 
have sunk into a king, and exhibited one more example of the 
folly of perverted ambition. But he was a hero of a new spe- 
cies, destined to become the head of a great school, not to fol- 
low the lead of others. 

The most dangerous feature in the present aspect of thinga, 
was that the demands of the army were just. They had a 
right to what they asked, and the universal sentiment of the 
people was in their favour. It was impossible to coerce such 
men with such claims, and arms in their hands to assert them. 
This was no time to use force, had force been at his command ; 
and if it had, Washington would have scarcely resorted to it, 
for in his heart he pitied, if he did not justify his own faith- 
ful soldiers. They waited patiently till they had achieved the 
great prize of the revolution, and now they only demanded 
what every one acknowledged was their due. It would have 
been cruel to punish such men. 

The indirect allusion to marching under his auspices had no 
temptation for his glorious ambition, nor would it if the pros- 
pect of a boundless empire had been open before him. He 
was no hero except in a virtuous cause, and even had he 
known no other impulse of action than that of base selfishness* 
he must have felt that he had already acquired a diadem and 
an empire richer than that of all the Caesars. 

With a temperate wisdom, which works almost all the 
wonders of this world, he took his measures to counteract the 



222 LIFE OP WASHINGTON. 

effects of this inflammatory address, not by forbidding the 
meeting it recommended, but by issuing a general order for 
the same purpose. The meeting thus proposed by him, was 
to take place a few days before that designated in the 
anonymous address, and the intermediate time was employed 
in soothing the feelings of the impatient troops, as well as 
smoothing the way to more moderate measures. "Washington 
communed with each individual ofiBccr privately, and never 
was the sublime influence of his personal character more finely 
exemplified than in the result of these interviews. Some of 
the officers were observed to come out of his room with the 
traces of tears on their cheeks, and others seemed bowed 
down by the weight of irresistible conviction. 

His own self-poised and manly spirit also yielded to the 
affecting crisis which had now arrived. He was about to 
use that influence which eight years of common service and 
common suffering had given him over his old companions in 
arms, to persuade them to go home and starve. There were 
among them grey-headed soldiers, on whom life was almost 
closing, and who were long past the time for beginning the 
world anew. Others had become prematurely old by wounds, 
and hardships, and exposures ; their heads had waxed white be- 
fore their time. All had been his faithful followers through- 
out the whole or a greater part of the long, lingering war that 
gave freedom to their country ; and as he looked in their care- 
worn, weather-beaten faces, he recognised many a one to 
whom he was indebted for good service in the hour of danger. 
As he cast his eyes around on the war-worn band he had 
called together, his eyes became dim, and he said, "I am grow- 
ing old in my country's service, and losing my sight ; but I 
never doubted its justice or its gratitude." 

He then proceeded to address them in the language of a 
father instructing his children, with the wisdom of age and the 
kindness of paternal love ; he appealed to their reason, their 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 223 

feelings, and their patriotism ; he allayed their irritation by- 
encouraging hopes; dwelt on the cheerful assistance and 
maiAyr obedience he had always received, and now expected to 
receive, from them; exposed with a just severity the mis- 
chievous incitements of the anonymous writer of the address, 
who was most likely an emissary of the enemy : and finally 
pledged that word which was never forfeited, to exert him- 
self promptly, vigorously, and on all occasions to procure 
them speedy justice. 

In conclusion, he exclaims — '^ Let me conjure you, in the 
name of our common country, as you value your sacred honour, 
as you respect the rights of mankind, and as you regard the 
military and national character of America, to express your 
utmost horror and detestation of the man who wishes, under 
any specious pretences, to overturn the liberties of our country, 
or who wickedly attempts to open the floodgates of civil dis- 
cord, and deluge our rising empire with blood. 

" By thus determining and thus acting, you will pursue the 
plain and direct road to the attainment of your wishes ; you 
will defeat the insidious designs of our enemies, who are com- 
pelled to resort from open force to secret artifice. You will 
give one more distinguished proof of unexampled patriotism 
and practical virtue rising superior to the most complicated 
sufferings ; and you will, by the dignity of your conduct, af- 
ford another occasion for posterity to say, when speaking of 
the glorious example you have exhibited to mankind, * Had 
this day been wanting, the world had never seen the last stage 
of perfection which human nature is capable of attaining.' » 

The words of truth from the lips of Washington were irre- 
sistible. No one answered him, and he retired, leaving the 
meeting to its deliberations. A resolution was proposed and 
adopted, stating, "That they reciprocated his affectionate 
expressions with the greatest sincerity of which the heart is 
capable." The meeting finally concluded with expressing its 



M4 LIJ^S off WA^INflTON. 

determination in the following memorable worda,—" That no 
circumstances of distress or danger should promjit them to 
actions that might tend to sully the rei)utation and glory they 
had accjuired at the price of their blood, and of eight years 
faithful service — That they continued to have an unshaken 
contidence in the justice of Congress and their country — Tha 
they viewed with abhorrence and rejected with disdain the 
infamous proposition contained in a late anonymous address 
to the officers of the army." 

In no act of his life did Washington confer a greater bene^t 
on his country, or exhibit a higher proof of virtuous self-denial, 
than in that I have just recorded. Had he been tainted with 
that ambition which is tho besetting sin of men of great minds, 
he had here an opportunity of indulging it under tho sanction 
of the most plausible motives. He might have placed himself 
at the head of a disaffected army, and under p.etence of as- 
serting the rights of his soldiers, overturned the newborn 
liberties of his country. In this attempt he would have doubt- 
less been aided by foreign powers; his influence over the 
army and people Avonld have strengthened his means, and 
there was nothing to oppose him but a Congress without 
authority, and a nation whose resources were exhausted. In 
the event of tho disbandonment of the army he could look for- 
ward only to retirement and repose. There was no office 
then existing in the country that held out the slightest tempta- 
tion to his acceptance ; he could not expect to be the head of 
a government that was without a head; nor aspire to any 
other reward than the gratitude of the people. But such con- 
siderations as these never weighed with him, or swerved his 
mind one hair's breadth from the line of duty to his country. 
He at once sacrificed false glory to true ; and the scarcity of 
such examples of disinterested patriotism in the history of 
mankind, sufficiently fhows tjie difficulty of [yractising thi» 
heroic >elf-denial. 



LIFE OF WASHINftTON. 225 

The author of the letters to the army at Newburgh has 
eince avowed himself, and it is but justice to his character to 
say, that there can be no plausible ground for a suspicion that 
he was actuated by the motives or the influence ascribed to 
him in the address of Washington. Without doubt he was 
stimulated by a sense of his own wrongs, and those of his 
fellow-sufferers ; and, however he may be justly chargeable 
with recommending a course of conduct which, had it been 
pursued, would in all probability have withered the fruits of 
eight long years of labour, anxiety, and suffering, his character 
and his services must acquit him in the eyes of posterity either 
of collusion with the enemy or hostility to his country. Still 
no blame can attach to Washington for adopting and avowing 
these suspicions. At that time the author was unknown, and 
the imputation was therefore not personal. The course so 
strenuously recommended by him was one which in its conse- 
quences might, and in all probability would have involved the 
country, then just springing into a renovated existence, in the 
most woful calamities, or at all events have given a death- 
blow to the civil authority of the newborn nation. It was 
therefore the duty of Washington to take the most decisive 
measures to arrest the influence of the anonymous writer 
whose labours were fraughtwith such deplorable consequences ; 
and if, in so doing, he imputed to him views of which he was 
junocent, the blame should rest with him who laid himself 
open to, not with him who made, the imputation. The purity 
of a man's motives can only be known to his own heart; 
others have no criterion but his acts by which to judge him. 



K .5 



22(> LIFE OF WABHINQTON. 



CHAPTER XVIir. 

Evacuation of New York, Washington enters the City. Hig reception. Takes 
leave of his brother Officers, and proceeds Homeward. Contrast of his Rltua. 
sion now and at the time lio passed tlirougl\ New Jersey retreating before tho 
Enemy. Delivers his Accounts to the Auditor -General. Remarks on them. 
Affecting Ceremony of resigning his Commission. Address of Washington, 
and Reply of the President of Congress. Reflections on the occasion. 

On the twenty-fifth day of November, 1782, the British evacu- 
ated New-York, of wliich they had kept possession ever since 
the year 1770, and adetachment of American forces marched 
into the city. Washington soon after made his entry, attend- 
ed by a great number of civil ofTicers and citizens, where he 
was received with enthusiastic and grateful demonstrations of 
welcome. The war being enc ed and the revolution accom- 
plished, he was now about to ( ppart for that home from which 
he had so long been estrangetl From the period of his taking 
the command of the American army, it is believed he had 
never visited Mount Vernon ; and without doubt, the toils, 
hardships, and anxieties he had endured through the whole 
course of that long absence had doubly endeared it to his re- 
collection. 

One ceremony remained to be performed before he finally 
sought the retirement he loved. It was to take leave of 
his old companions in arms^, perhaps for ever. On the fourth of 
December, at twelve o'clock, they assembled, by his request^ 
at the hotel in which he lodged, where in a few minutes they 
were met by their venerated chief. Few words passed, 
for their hearts were too full to speak. Washington filled 
a glass of wine, turned to his old fellow-soldiers, and 
in a voice almost choked with his emotions, addressed 
them in these noble and afiecting words : — '* With a heart 



IIFE OP WASHINGTON. 227 

full of love and gratitude, I now take leave of you. I 
most devoutly wish that your latter days may be as prosper- 
ous and happy as your former ones have been glorious and 
honourable." Haf ing pledged himself to them all, he added 
— " I cannot come to each of you to take my leave, but shall 
be obliged if each of you would come and take me by the 
hand." The first that came was General Knox, who re- 
ceived the pressure of his hand iu silence, and in silence, 
returned it. He exchanged an embrace with his old friend 
and commander, and was followed, one by one, by each 
of the officers present, who returned the pressure of the hand 
and the cordial embrace without uttering a single word. I 
have heard some of the old remnants of the good days of 
honest patriotism, who partook of this affecting ceremony, at- 
tempt to describe it ; but though more than thirty years had 
then passed away, they never spoke of it without melting 
into tears. They said it was like a good patriarch taking 
leave of his children, and going on a long journey from whence 
he might return no more. 

"When the last pressure of the hand, and the last embrace 
was given and received, Washington left the room, followed 
by a solemn procession of his officers. In dead silence he pro- 
ceeded to Whitehall, where a barge was in waiting to take 
him across the river — entered it, and waving his hat, took a 
final leave. The farewell was received, and returned as it was 
given, in solemn silence : the general was rowed away ; and 
the processionr eturned to the place whence it departed, as if 
coming from the funeral of a beloved parent. 

From New York Washington proceeded onward to Anna- 
polis, in Maryland, where Congress was then assembled, for 
the purpose of resigning his command. His progress was 
everywhere hailed by testimonials of the gratitude and vene- 
ration of the people, more affecting and sincere than ever ac- 
companied a conqueror I'eturning from the subjugation of na- 



S28 LIVE OF WASUINftTON^ 

tions. He was received and greeted, not aa the destroyer, but 
the preserver ; and there was mingled in these outpourings of 
national feeling, whatever could give honour and dignity to 
such demonstrations. He was about to become a private citi- 
zen, his favour or his influence could no longer be of conse- 
quence to any individual ; and the sentiment with which he 
was everywhere cheered, was not that of the hope of future 
benefits, but gratitude for past services. No selfish feeling 
mingled in the universal chorus ; and it was now that he re- 
ceived, not only the fruition of past toils, but the foretaste of 
the immortality to come. His virtues, his services, and his 
sufferings in the cause of mankind, were here rewarded by the 
noblest of all diadems, the crown of a nation's gratitude. 

How different his journey now, accompanied as he was by 
the applauses of a grateful people, and the consciousness of 
deserving them, from the painful situation when, only a few 
years before, he passed over this same ground, with the almost 
hopeless fortunes of a nation on his shoulders, a superior enemy 
tracking his path, and difficulties and disasters surrounding 
him on every side. Yet, even in that extremity, he was sus- 
tained by those imperishable pillars that always support the 
edifice of piety and virtue — the consciousness of a just cause, 
an honest heart, and the blessing of Heaven. Under such 
auspices, no man ought ever to despair. 

When "Washington accepted the appointment of commander- 
in-chief of the American Armies, it was with a condition that 
his emoluments should be strictly limited to his actual ex- 
penses. He consequently served during the whole war with- 
out pay, and now, in passing through Philadelphia, rendered 
in his accounts, exhibiting a sum which may serve as a lasting 
example to his successors. I have now before me a facsimile 
of this interesting document. It is all in the handwriting of 
Washington, and is so clear and explicit in every item, as to 
furi ' Vo'^'^onclusive evidence of its con'ectness, had any been 
tnem in tht. 



LIFK OF WABHIN^TON. 229 

wanting. Every dollar he expended is specifically accounted 
for, and every dollar received credited. The whole amount of 
his expenditure during the war is under fourteen thousand five 
hundred pounds, and of this nearly two thousand is for pro- 
curing secret intelligence. His household expenses amounted 
to less than three thousand five hundred pounds. 

These facts may appear trifling, but they are well worth the 
notice of my young readers. They may learn from them that 
the basis of all public, is private virtue, and that true great- 
ness consists in a strict regard to the same obligations which 
govern all good men. He who is reckless of his own re- 
sources, will be yet more so of those of the state ; he who 
wastes his fortune will always be assailed by the temptations 
of debt, than which none are more fatal to the integrity of 
man. Youth is too apt to admire that false generosity which,, 
disregarding the obligations of justice, instead of paying its 
own debts, pampers its vanity by giving away what is not its 
own, and thus acquiring the reputation of liberality at the cost 
of others. The expenditures of Washington on no occasion 
went beyond the bounds ot ^^tional propriety, nor did he ever 
violate the stern principles of justice, under the influence of 
a weak and selfish vanity. The fate of Arnold furnishes an 
example and a warning, to show that extravagance ever leads 
to temptation, and that debts wantonly incurred, and which 
we are unable to pay, are ever the forerunners of desperate 
expedients, unprincpled actions, or moral insensibility. The 
great pillars of freedom are economy and simplicity. 

On arriving at Annapolis, Washington signi.^sd to Congress 
the intention of resigning his commission, and desired to know 
its pleasure as to the manner in which it should be done. That 
illustrious body, being desirous of an opportunity of bearing 
ample testimony to its high sense of his merits and services, 
determined that the act should be performed in a public 
audience, and appointed a day for that purpose. 



230 tlPK OF WASHINGTON. 

A desire to witnesa a ceremony fraught with so many inte- 
resting recollections, and in itself .so simply grand, brought 
together a crowd of spectators from the city and its neigh- 
bourhood. Washington was introduced and conducted to a 
chair by the Secretary of Congress, the members of which sat 
coveted. The president, after the delay of a few moments, 
apprised him, "That the United States, in Congress assem- 
bled, were prepared to receive his communication." He rose, 
and with that calm, dignified simplicity which clothed all his 
actions in a native grace, spoke as follows ; — 

"Mr. rBESIDENT, 

>" The great events on which my resignation depended hav- 
g at length taken place, I have now the honour of offering 
' my sincere congratulations to Congress, and presenting myself 
before them to surrender into their hands the tri'st committed, 
to me, and to claim the indulgence of retiring from the service 
of my country, 

" Happy in the confirmation of our independence and sove- 
reignty, pleased with the opportunity afforded the United 
States of becoming a respectable nation, I resign with satis^ 
^action an appointment I accepted with diffidence, — a diffi- 
dence of my ability to accomplish so arduous a task ; which, 
however, was superseded by a confidence in the rectitude of 
our cause, the support of the supreme power of the Union, and 
the patronage of Heaven. 

"The successful termination of the war has verified the 
most sanguine expectations ; and my gratitude for the inter- 
position of Providence, and the assistance I have received 
from my countrymen, increases with every review of the mo- 
mentous contest. While I repeat my obligations to the army 
in general, I should do injustice to my own feelings not to 
acknowledge, in this place, the peculiar services and dis- 
tinguished merits of the gentlemen who have been attached to 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 231 

my person during the war. It was impossible the choice of 
officers to compose my family should have been more fortu- 
nate. Permit me, sir, to recommend in particular those who 
have continued in the service to the present moment, as worthy 
of the favourable notice and patronage of Congress. 

"1 consider it an indispensible duty to close this last act of 
my official life by commending the interests of our dearest 
country to the protection of Almighty God, and those who 
have the superintendence of them to his holy keeping. 

^' Having now finished the work assigned me, I retire from 
the great theatre of action, and bidding an affectionate fare- 
well to this august body, under whose orders I have so long 
acted, I here offer my commission, and take leave of all the 
employments of public life." 

He then adv?,nced to the chair of the president, delivered 
his commission into his hands, and, while standing, received 
the following address from that high functionary : — 



# 



' Sir, 

" The United States, in Congress assembled, receive with 
emotions too affecting for utterance the solemn resignation of 
the authority under which you have led their troops, with 
success, through a perilous and doubtful war. Called upon 
by your country to defend its invaded rights, you accepted the 
sacred charge before it had formed alliances, and while it was 
without funds or a government to support you. You have 
conducted the great military contest with wisdom and forti- 
tude, invariably regarding the rights of the civil power through 
all disasters and changes. You have, by the love and confi- 
dence of your fellow-citizens, enabled them to display their 
martial genius, and transmit their fame to posterity. You have 
persevered until these United States, aided by a magnanimous 
king and nation, have been enabled, under a just Providence, 



232 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

to close the war in freedom, safety, and independence ; ou 
which happy event we sincerely join you in congratulations. 

" Having defended the standard of liberty in this new 
world; having taught a lesson, useful to those who inflict and 
to those who feel oppression, you retire from the great theatre 
of action with the blessings of your fellow-citizens. But the 
glory of your virtues will not terminate with your military 
command ; it will continue to animate remotest ages. 

" We feel with you our obligations to the army in general, 
and will particularly charge ourselves with the interests of 
those confidential officers who have attended your person to 
this affecting moment. We join you in commending the in- 
terests of our dearest country to the protection of Almighty 
God, beseeching him to dispose the hearts and minds of our 
citizens to improve the opportunity afforded them of becoming 
a happy and respectable nation. And for you we address to 
him our earnest prayers that a life so beloved may be fostered 
with all his care ; that your days may be as happy as they 
have been illustrious, and that he will finally give that re- 
ward which this world cannot bestow." 

Thus closed the millitary career of Washington, in a manner 
worthy of him, of his country, and of its constituted authorities. 
It seems impossible to contemplate the scene I have just sketch- 
ed witliout feeling the heart to swell with the noblest, most 
affecting emotions. The event itself, so simple yet so grand ; 
the example of a great and virtuous man, who, having ful- 
filled the duties for which he was raised to power, volun- 
tarily comes forward to surrender it into the hands of the 
representative of the people ; the character and dignity of 
that august assembly to wliom the trust was surrendered, 
and of the man who thus easily divested himself of authority; 
the piety, fervour, and simplicity of the address and the 
j.eply; and the recollection of the events which preceded 
and followed the consumation of the independence of a 



LIFE OV WASHINGTON. 233 

great nation— all combine to form a picture to which feVT, 
of this world present a parallel. Here, as in all other acts 
of his life, Washington exhibited an example which will 
be much oftener admired than imitated. Here, as in all other 
circumstances, he stands almost alone in the world — great 
without seeming to be great, because he performed great 
actions with such ease and simplicity, with such a total ab- 
sence of all apparent effort, that, until we examine them 
critically, they appear like those of ordinary men. 

Having performed this act of moderation and patriotism; 
having served his country through good and evil fortune, 
through perils and unnumbered storms, and brought her safely 
into til" ',iaven of repose and security, Washington now retired 
to Mouxit Vernon, there to enjoy in quiet the sweets of domes- 
tic intercourse, and the pleasures of rural life^ followed by 
the blessings of grateful millions. 



CHAPTER XIX. 

Washington at Mount Vernon. 

The poor man carries his happiness with him wheresoever 
he goes, for it is the inmate of his bosom. Its source is in the 
consciousness of virtue and the approval of Heaven. This is 
the only sure basis of independence, for it places us above the 
world and all its accidents, which are otherwise beyond our 
control. I have generally observed that men of eminent purity 
of life, and distinguished for the exercise of the higher virtues, 
were happy and blessed in the possession of what they n!bst 
desired. They were perhaps neither rich nor great; but if 
they were not so, it was because they coveted neither. But 
they possessed what they valued far above these — a serenity and 
quietness of mind, a calm contented acquiescence in the 



234 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

bounties of Heaven, wliether bestowed or withheld. If they 
were not great, they were honoured by the esteem of others ; 
and if subjected to misfortunes and reproaches, it was apparent 
to all that they enjoyed what is above all things most precious 
— a composed, cheerful, and resigned spirit, a divine content- 
ment, such as placed them far above the influence of all this 
world can give or take away, and clearly proved that virtue 
is not without its reward even in the extremity of its hardest 
trials. 

If ever man possessed these means of happiness, it would 
seem to have been Washington. During his whole course of 
life his actions corresponded with his faith and his principles; 
the one was the natural result of the other. We see him on 
all occasions modestly and unaffectedly distrusting his own 
powers, promising nothing but honest exertions and integrity 
of purpose, and uniformly relying for the attainment of just 
ends on the aid of a just Providence. Everywhere, and at all 
times, exhibits this high-souled dependence, and while he 
carried with him into retirement the recollection of having em- 
ployed his past life in the performance of useful and glorious ac- 
tions, he looked forward to the future with a happy confidence 
founded on the Rock of Ages. 

Having piloted his country through a long and angry 
tempest, his ambition, or rather his delight, was to set her 
such an example as would aid in securing the blessings placed 
within her reach by the attainment of independence. These, 
he perceived, could only be secured by the union of industry, 
economy, intelligence, and virtue. No man knew better than 
himself that agriculture is not only the foundation of national 
wealth, but also of national happiness. It furnishes the ma- 
terials for every other species of human industry, as well as 
the almost universal means of subsistence ; it is the most 
wholesome and dignified of all the employments of man ; and 
it aflfords less incitement to bad habits, by the absence of those 



LIFE OF. WASHINGTON. 236 

temptations and opportunities which beset him in crowded 
communites, where vice, like disease, may be said to be con- 
tagious, and is not only diffused, but aggravated, by communi- 
cation. In short, having won the wreath of glory, his ambition 
was now to become a useful citizen, by setting an example of 
private virtue. 

Daring the period which elapsed between his retirement 
from the command of the army and his elevation to a still 
higher station, he did not sink into indolent or luxurious re- 
pose, nor tliink that, having done so much, he was not called 
upon to do more. From an example to all future patriots, he 
became a model to all the cultivators of the land. Dividing 
his time into separate portions, and devoting each one to its 
particular objects, he had leisure for every thing. His public 
duties, as will presently be seen, were by no means abandoned 
or neglected duricg his retirement ; but they did not interfere 
with the most critical attention to his own private affairs, his 
agricultural pursuits, his domestic offices, his devotions, and 
his social enjoyments. 

He was at this time fifty-one years of age, with a vigorous 
frame and a constitution unbroken by the vicissitudes of a 
hard service of eight arduous years, notwithstanding in some 
of his letters he alludes to his being occasionally afflicted with 
rheumatic pains, the consequence of his former exposures in 
the field. Though his pleasure was in the performance of his 
duties, his employment was agriculture. He wished to set 
an example of successful farming to all those within the sphere 
of his influence, and his long absence from the care of his 
estate left ample room for improvements. Accordingly, he 
opened a correspondence with the most distinguished agri- 
culturists of England and the United States, and availed him- 
self on all occasions of their experience, whenever he thought 
it applicable to the condition or the means of his countrymen 
and neighbours. 



235 LIFE OP WASHINOTON. 

His adoption of new systems and theories was judiciously 
cautious. He knew that experimental farmers seldom or 
never prosper ; and that the man who adopts every thing new 
will be pretty sure to entail on himself poverty in his old age- 
The example of his correspondent, Arthur Young, furnished 
its warning. He who could teach others how to manage a 
farm, reduced himself to bankruptcy by following out his own 
theories. The wisdom of Washington had taught him that in 
agriculture, as well as every other pursuit, that system which 
will in one country ensure prosperity, will in another as surely 
produce disappointment and poverty. The very air we breathe, 
as well as every other universal benefit, may be made the 
means of death as well as life, Washington, therefore, wisely 
concluded that in agriculture, as in all other pursuits, success 
depended solely on the adaptation of means to ends, and not 
in expending more in the attainment of an object than it was 
worth. 

Betimes in the morning he was abroad in the fields, direct- 
ing his labourers, and seeing that they had complied with his 
instructions. His eye was everywhere, and as those who 
pc-formed their duties never failed of being rewarded by his 
approbation, so those who neglected them were sure of a 
reprimand. He considered indulgence to his dependants, 
when carried to the extent of permitting idleness or offence' 
as equally unjust to himself and injurious to them. He was 
a kind master to the good, a strict disciplinarian to the bad, 
and he was both feared and loved by all within the sphere of 
his domestic influence. He exacted obedience, and repaid it 
by benefits. His domestic government was patriarchal ; the 
people of his establishment were his children, equally the sub- 
jects of his authority and the objects of his affection. 

But Washington did not confine himself to the improvement 
of his own estates, or the introduction of a better system of 
agriculture in bis native state. He took journeys in different 



IJPE OF WASHINftTON, 237 

directions to ascertain the practicability of great internal im- 
provements, which might at one and the same time increase 
the means of happiness, and, by associating the interests of 
the different sections of the country, operate as new bonds of 
union. His influence and his arguments prevailed in the legis- 
lature of Virginia, and two companies were established for 
the purpose of extending the navigation of the Potomac and 
James Rivers. By the act of the legislature, one hundred and 
fifty shares of stock, amounting to forty thousand dollars, 
were offered to his acceptance. These he declined with a 
noble disinterestedness, and at his request they were appro- 
priated to the purposes of education. Thus usefully and 
honourably employed in cultivating the earth, and forwarding 
objects beneficial to mankind, his short interval of repose 
passed away in all the comforts of a good man's lot. Health, 
competence and well-won honour, active employment, and 
the recollections of a glorious life, all combined to make 
him as happy as is compatible with the dispensations of this 
world. 

These general outlines could be agreeably illustrated by 
various anecdotes in my possession, derived from the most 
unquestionable sources, did not the design of this work neces- 
sarily confine me within certain limits. I am therefore obliged 
to restrict myself to a mere sketch of the private life of Wash- 
ington, although it furnishes, perhaps, an example equally, 
and indeed more universally important than even his public 
actions. The world has had enough of heroes and conquerors, 
who appear to have considered the' performance of brilliant 
exploits, or the possession of superior talents, as conferring 
the privilege of a total disregard to private duties; and the 
lustre of great actions, a sufficient gloss for follies and crimes 
that ought in reality to be more deeply abhorred, because the 
example is more likely to be followed, and the consequences 
more widely disseminated, Washington on his farm at Mount 



238 LIFE OP WASHINCtTON. 

Vernon, performing his duties as a virtuous and useful citizen, 
is equally an object worthy of contemplation with Washington 
leading his country to independence, and showing her how 
to enjoy it afterwards. The former example is indeed more 
extensively useful, because it comes home to the business and 
bosoms of ordinary men, and is within the reach of their 
imitation. 

But he was not long destined to enjoy his dignified repose. 
Such men belong to their country. They are sacrifices offered 
up to the welfare of nations, martyrs at the shrine of public 
happiness, and must find their enjoyments in administering to 
those of others. Scarcely had the sun of independence dawned 
on the United States, when it was obscured by the clouds of 
eril omen, and increasing darkness. The cement of a com- 
mon danger had kept them together while struggling for 
liberty, almost without a government. But that no longer 
existing, the bonds that remained were too weak to produce 
either unity of action or submission to authority. A people 
who had just burst asunder the shackles of a foreign govern- 
ment, were unwilling to impose upon themselves new fetter?. 
Like children let loose from school, and freed from the super- 
vision of a rigid master, they wished to play truant a while, 
and enjoy a little of the sweets of unrestrained liberty. They 
mistook no-government, for self-government, and confounded 
the authority of their own choice, with the domination im- 
posed on them without their consent. 

It soon became evident that the provisions of the act of 
confederation, under which the states had, by the special fa- 
vour of Providence in giving them such a leader as Washing- 
ton, attained their independence, were insufficient to sustain 
the shock of peace. The states, which had acted in a great 
measure independent of each other during the war, were ex- 
tremely unwilling to circumscribe their privileges, the more 
^e^x for being but newly acquired ; and a large portion of tha 



LIFE OP WASHINGTON. 239 

people shared in the sentiment. It had become obvious that 
they could not long hold together by the rope of aand of a con- 
federation, which left each one at liberty to reject or disregard 
the requisitions of Congress. The enemies of liberty had pre- 
dicted the speedy dissolution of the Union, and the prophecy 
seemed about to be fulfilled. 

People began to talk of the necessity of returning once more 
to the protection of England, or establishing a king of their 
own. Washington, in one of his letters, exclaims, — " What 
astonishing changes a few years are capable of producing ! I 
am told that even respectable characters speak of a monarchi- 
cal form of government without horror ! From thinking pro- 
ceeds speaking; thence to acting is often but a single step. 
But how inexcusable and tremendous ! What a triumph for 
the advocates of despotism to find that we are incapable of 
governing ourselves, and that systems founded on the basis of 
equal liberty are merely ideal and fallacious ! Would to 
God that wise measures may be taken in time to arrest the 
consequences we have so much reason to apprehend. Re- 
tired as I am from the world, I frankly acknowledge I cannot 
feel myself an unconcerned spectator. Yet, having happily 
assisted in bringing the ship into port, and having been fairly 
discharged, it is not my business to embark again on a sea of 
troubles." 

Yet he could not find it in his heart to desert his country in 
this new and perilous voyage. He employed the influence of 
. his character, the force of his reasonings, and the authority of 
his example, in producing a general impression of the abso- 
lute necessity of a modification of the government, to pre- 
serve its existence. He addressed letters to the governors of 
the states, and to the principal men of influence everywhere, 
urging them to come forward and lend their support to this 
indispensable measure. But it was a long time before even 
|he authority and arguments of Washingtoa could overcome 



240 LIFB OP WASHINGTON. 

the salutary fear vrith which every true lover of liberty con- 
templates an extension of authority. 

The effect was, however, at length produced. Virginia, the 
native state of Washington, and worthy of his nativity, here, 
as in many other instances, took the lead, and she was the 
first to introduce a resolution for electing deputies to a Genera 
Convention for modifying the Articles of Confederation. An 
insurrection in Massachusetts which occurred about this time, 
and which for a while baffled the authorities of the state, af- 
forded additional proof of the utter weakness of the govern- 
ment, and seemed to demonstrate the necessity of a new 
organixatiou. 

The name of Washington appeared at the head of the Vir- 
ginia delegates, and he was urged on all sides and with the 
most pressing arguments, to accept the appointment. Greatly 
as he loved Mount Vernon and the enjoyments of rural life, he 
loved his country more. What he had laboured so earnestly 
to bring about in the beginning, he could not and would not 
desert until it was brought to an end, and, after long consi- 
deration, he once more consented to return to public life. 
With what unwillingness he made the sacrifice is seen in va- 
rious of his letters, wherein he expresses, with the unaffected 
plainness of truth, his hesitation. Once more, in the month of 
September, 1787, did Washington leave his retirement, where, 
for a few short years of his arduous existence, he had tasted 
the blessings of a (^uiet and happy home. His country called, 
and he obeyed her summons, to aid by his wisdom in the pre- 
servation of that freedom which he bad won by his valour. 



LIFK OF WASHINaTON, 341 



CHAPTER XX. 

Convention. Evils to be remedied by It. The New Constitution. Washing- 
ton solicited to accept the Presidency. Consents with great Reluctance. Is 
chosen unanimously. Leaves Mount Vernon. His Reception on his Journey 
Situation of Public affairs. Disputes with England. Spain. War with 
Moors and Indians. National Debt. Administration of Washington. Final 
Retirement to Mount Vernon. 

The weakness of the confederation was the cause, to give 
it strength was the object, of calling the convention. It was 
convened, not for the purpose of making a new constitution, 
but amending the old. The most striking and dangerous de- 
fects to be remedied, are thus eloquently set forth in a letter 
of Washington : 

" With joy I once beheld my country feeling the liveliest sense 
of her rights, and maintaining them with a spirit apportioned 
to their worth. With joy I have seen all the wise men of 
Europe looking on her with admiration, and all the good with 
hope, that her fair example would regenerate the old world 
and restore the blessings of equal government to long oppressed 
humanity. But alas ! in the place of maintaining this glorious 
attitude, America is herself rushing into disorder and dissolu- 
tion. We have power sufficient for self-defence and glorj', 
but those powers are not exerted. For fear Congress should 
abuse it, the people will not trust their power to chastise 
them. Ambitious men stir up insurrections ; Congress pos- 
sesses no power to coerce them. Public creditors call for 
their money ; Congress has no power to collect it. In short 
we cannot long subsist as a nation, without lodging some- 
where a power that may command the full energies of the 
nation for defence against all its wants. The people will soon 
I. 



^2 I.IFK OF WA8HINeT0N. 

be tired of such a government. They will sigh for a change 
and many of them already begin to talk of monarchy without 
horror," 

These crying evils certainly called loudly for a remedy- 
But there were many and formidable obstacles to its adoption^ 
The states were justly jealous of their independence, and the 
people justly afraid of delegating too much power to the general 
government. They had felt oppression, and trembled at the 
the idea of authority. The power had reversed to them 
on the dissolution of the parent government, and they 
disrelished the idea of parting with it so soon, by delegating 
it to others. 

The convention, however, met at Philadelphia, and unani- 
mously chose Washington its president. This situation in 
some measure precluded him from speaking, if he had been so 
, inclined ; but his influence was not the less in producing the 
results which followed. It is highly probable that but for the 
exertions he made in private, and the vast authority of his 
character and services, the objects of the convention might 
not have been attained. As it was, the constitution encoun- 
tered great opposition within doors, and when promulgated, 
after a session of six months, it was met by the people in 
various quarters with a determined spirit of hostility. It was 
accepted slowly and unwillingly by many of the states, which 
accompanied their adhesion by a variety of proposed amend- 
ments, almost all operating to circumscribe the authority of 
the federal government. The great talents of jMadison, Hamil- 
ton, and Jay, exerted in that celebrated work called the Fed- 
eralist, and the influence of many of the leading men of the 
different states, aided by the name of Washington, alone, per- 
haps, secured to the country the great charter of its liberties. 

Under the new constitution a chief magistrate became ne-« 
cessary to administer the government. The eyes of the whole 



I 



LIFE -OF WASHINCtlON. ,2i3 

people of the United States were at once directed to Washing- 
ton^ and their united voices called upon him who had led 
their armies in war, to direct their affairs in peace. His old 
companions came forth and besought him to leave his re- 
tirement once more to serve his country. The leading men of 
all parties wrote letters to the same purport, and on all hands 
he was assailed by the warmest, most earnest applications. 

His replies are extant, and those who have ever seen them 
cannot for a moment question the deep reluctance with which 
he undertook this new and trying service. Both in its external 
and internal relations, the country was at this time in a most 
critical state, and the man who accepted the hard task of ad- 
ministering its government, might rationally anticipate little 
of the sweets and all the bitterness of power. He who al- 
ready possessed the hearts of the people ; he who had already 
gained the mosi lofty eminence ; the noblest of all rewards, 
the hallowed title of his country's father, and gratitude of a 
nation, would risk every thing and gain nothing by embarking 
again on the troubled ocean of political strife, in a vessel 
whose qualities for the voyage had never been tried. But 
Washington thought he might be of service to his country. 
and once more sacrificed his rural happiness and cherished 
tastes at the shrine where he had often offered up his life and 
all its enjoyments. ^ 

He was unanimously elected president of the United States 
on the fourth of IMarch, 1789, but owing to some formal or ac- 
cidental delays, this event was not notified to him officially 
until the fourteenth of April following. Referring to this 
delay, he thus expresses himself in a letter to General Knox, 
who possessed and deserved his friendship to the last moment 
of his life. 

" As to myself, the delay may be compared to a reprieve ; 
for in confidence I tell you (with the world it would obtain 



24i tiFK OF WASHTNflTON. 

little credit) that my movements towardH the chair of govern- 
ment will be accompanied by feelings not inilike those of a 
culprit going to the place of execution ; so unwilling am I, 
in the evening of a life consumed in public cares, to quit my 
peaceful abode for an ocean of difRculties, without the com- 
petency of political skill, abilities, and inclination which is ne- 
cessary to manage the helm. I am sensible that I am embark- 
ing with the voice of the people, and a good name of my own, 
on this voyage, and what returns will be made for them, 
Heaven alone can foretel. Integrity and firmness are all that 
I can promise. These, be the voyage long or short, shall never 
forsake me, though I may be deserted by all men ; for of the 
consolations to be derived from these, the world cannot de- 
prive me." 

Such was the foundation of his modest confidence ; — firmness 
and integrity, the true pillars of honest greatness. And these 
never deserted him. Ho kept his promise to himself in all 
times, circumstances, and temptations ; and though, on a few 
rare occasions during the course of a stormy season, in which 
the hopes, fears, and antipathies of his fellow-citizens were 
strongly excited, his conduct may have been assailed, his mo- 
tives were never questioned. None ever doubted his firmness, 
and the general conviction of his integrity was founded on a 
rock, that could neither be undermined nor overthrown. 

His progress from Mount Vernon to New York, where Con- 
gress was then sitting, was a succession of the most affecting 
scenes which the sentiment of a grateful people ever presented 
to the contemplation of the world. His appearance awakened 
in the bosoms of all an enthusiasm, so much the more glorious 
because little characteristic of our countrymen. Men, women, 
and children poured forth and lined the roads in throngs to see 
him pass, and hail his coming ; the windows shone with glis- 
tening eyes, watching his passing footsteps ; the women wept 



tlFE OF WA8HIN6T0N. 245 

for joy ; the children shouted, "God save Washington !" and 
the iron hearts of the stout husbandman yearned witli inex- 
pressible aflPection towards him who had caused them to re- 
pose in safety under their own vine and their own fig-trees. 
His old companions in arms came forth to renovate their 
honest pride, as well as undying affection, by a sight of their 
general, and a shake of his hand. The pulse of the nation beat 
high with exultation, for now, when they saw their ancient 
pilot once more at the helm, they hoped for a prosperous voy- 
age and a (juiet haven in the bosom of prosperity. 

His reception at Trenton was peculiarly touching. It was 
planned by those females and their daughters whosee patri- 
otism and sufferings in the cause of liberty, were equal to 
those of their fathers, husbands, sons, and brothers. It was 
here^ when the hopes of the people lay prostrate on the earth, 
and the eagle of freedom seemed to flap his wings, as if pre« 
paring to forsake the world, that Washington performed those 
prompt and daring acts which, while they revived the droop- 
ing spirits of his country, freed, for a time, the matrons of 
Trenton from the insults and wrongs of an arrogant soldiery. 
The female heart is no sanctuary for ingratitude ; and when 
Washington arrived at the bridge over the Assumpink, which 
here flows close to the borders of the city, he met the 
sweetest reward that, perhaps, ever crowned his virtues. 

Over the bridge was thrown an arch of evergreens and 
flowers, bearing this affecting inscription in large letters : 

"December 26, 1776. 

" The hero who defended the mothers tvili 

protect the daughters.^'' 

At the other extremity of the bridge were assembled many 
hundreds of young girls of various ages, arrayed in white, 
the emblem of truth and innocence, their brows circled with 



246 JLIFE OF WABHINGTON 

garlands, and baskets of flowers in their hands. Beyond 
these were disposed the grown-up daughters of the land, 
clothed and e(iuipped like the others, and behind them the 
matrons, all of whom remembered the never-to-be-forgotten 
twenty-sixth of December, 1776. As the good Washing- 
ton left the bridge, they joined in a chorus, touchingly ex- 
pressive of his services and their gratitude, strewing, at the 
same time, flowers as he passed along. That mouth whose 
muscles of gigantic strength indicated the firmness of his cha- 
racter and the force of his mind, was now observed to quiver 
with emotion; that eye which looked storms and tempests, 
enemies and friends, undauntingly in the face, and never 
quailed in the sight of man, now glistened with tears ; and 
that hand which had not trembled when often life, fame, 
and the liberty of his country hung on the point of a single 
moment, now refused its office. His hat dropped from his 
hand as he drew it across his brow. 

His reception everywhere was worthy of his services, and 
of a grateful people. At New York, the vessels were adorned 
with flags, and the river alive with boats, gaily decked out in 
like manner, with bands of music on board; the place of his 
lauding was thronged with crowds of citizens, gathered to- 
gether to welcome his arrival. The roar of cannon and the 
shouts of the multitude announced his landing, and he was 
conducted to his lodging by thousands of grateful hearts, who 
remembered what he had done for them in the daj'^s of their 
trial. It had been arranged that a military escort should at- 
tend him; but when the officer in command announced his 
commission, Washington replied, " I require no guard but the 
affections of the people," and declined their attendance. 

At this moment, so calculated to inflate the human heart 
with vanity, Washington, though grateful for these sponta- 
neous proofs of affectionate veneration, was not elated. In 
describing the scene in one of his familiar letters, he says ; — 



IIFK eV WASHINQTON. 24t 

"The display of boatg on this occasion with vocal and instru- 
mental music on board, the decorations of the ships, the roar 
of cannon, and the loud acclamations of the people, as I 
passed along the wharves, gave me as much pain as pleasure, 
contemplating the probable reversal of this scene, after all my 
endeavours to do good." Happily, his anticipations were 
never realized. Although his policy in relation to the French 
Revolution, which was as wise as it was happy in its conse- 
quences, did not give universal satisfaction, still he remained 
master of the affections and confidence of the people. The 
laurels he had won in defence of the liberties of his country, 
continued to flourish on his brow while living, and will grow 
green on his grave to the end of time. 

On the 30th day of April, 1789, he took the oath, and en- 
tered on the office of President of the United States, one of the 
highest, as well as the most thankless that could be under- 
taken by man. The head of this free government is no idle, 
empty pageant, set up to challenge the admiration, and coerce 
the absolute submission of the people ; his duties are arduous, 
and his responsibilities great ; he is the first servant, not the 
master of the state, and is amenable for his conduct, like the 
humblest citizen. As the executor of the laws, he is bound 
to see them obeyed ; as the first of our citizens, he is equally 
bound to set an example of obedience. The oath "to pre- 
serve, protect, and defend the constitution of the United 
States," was administered in tlie balcony of the old Federal 
Hall in New York, by the chancellor of the state, and the 
Bible on which it was sworn is preserved as a sacred relic. 

At the time Washington assumed the high functions of Pre- 
sident of the United States, there was ample room for the 
exertion of all his firmness, integrity, and talents. A new 
constitution to be administered, without the aid of experience 
or precedent, by an authority to which the people were stran- 
gers ; serious and alarming difficulties to be adjusted with 



24S IrlFK OP WASHINGTON, 

Eugland; the Indian nations all along our frontier, bran- 
dishing their tomahawks, and whetting their scalping-knives; 
war with Mediterranean pirates; the Spaniards denying our 
right to navigate the Mississippi, and the people of Kentucky 
threatening a separation from the Union, unless that right was 
successfully asserted by the government. Other difficulties 
stared the new president full in the face. Some of the 
states still declined to accept the new constitution, and be- 
come members of the confederation ; others nearly equally 
divided on the subject ; and a debt of eighty millions of dol- 
lars ; to meet all which there was an array of less than a 
thousand men, and an empty treasury. 

Here was enough, and more than enough, to call forth all 
the energies, if not to produce despair in the breast of an or- 
dinary man. But Washington was not such a man. Conscious 
of the purity of his purposes, he relied on the protection of 
that Power Avhich is all purity. His first care was to provide 
for the civil and judicial administration of the government, by 
the appointment of men in whose virtue and capacity a long 
experience had given him confidence. Having done this, he 
took the reins with a firm, steady hand, and commenced the 
ascent of the rugged steep before him. 

The next object that called his attention was the situation 
of the inland frontier, now exposed to the inroads cf the sa- 
vages, who had not been included in the general pacification, 
although a proposition to that effect had been made by the 
British commissioners. Although our government has always 
treated the Indians as independent tribes, it has never placed 
them on the footing of civilized nations, or admitted any me- 
diation on the part of foreign powers. The United States do 
not recognise them as parties in civilized warfare; they 
neither avail themselves of their alliance, nor acknowledge 
them as the auxiliaries of other nations. 

A system was devised for the conduct of those singular re- 



LIFE OF WASHINQXON. 249 

lations which alone can subsist between people so different 
in all respects, moral and political. The wisdom of that sys- 
tem has been exemplified in having uniformly been acted upon 
to this time ; and though it may perhaps be questioned as to 
its abstract principles, it would be perhaps difficult, if not im- 
possible, to devise a better. Our ancestors came to this coun- 
try under the sanction of a principle at that time universally 
acknowledged among civilized nations, and when once here, 
the first law of nature, self-defence, furnishes their only jus- 
tification. While weak, they were obliged to defend them- 
selves, and when they became strong, they were probably too 
apt to remember their former sufferings. 

The policy of Washington, with regard to these unfortu- 
nate people, was successful in quieting, if not conciliating, 
many of the Indian tribes ; but others remained refractory, 
and continued their atrocities. After defeating two American 
armies, with great slaughter, they were at length brought to 
terms by the gallant Wayne, who gave them so severe a beat- 
ing in a great general action, that they sued for peace. This 
was concluded at Greenville ; and the cession of a vast terri- 
tory, not only relieved the frontier from savage inroads, but 
paved the way for the progress of civilization into a new 
world of wilderness. 

He was equally successful at a subsequent period in his ne- 
gociatious with Spain. His high character for veracity and 
honour gave him singular advantages in his foreign inter- 
course. He proceeded in a straightforward, open manners- 
stated what was wanted, and what could be given in return ; 
relied on justice, and enforced its claims with the argument.^ 
of truth. He disdained to purchase advantages by corrup- 
tion, or to deceive by insincerity. As in private, so in public 
life, he proceeded inflexibly upon the noble maxim, whose 
truth is every day verified;, that " Honesty is the best policy." 
L 5 



250 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

The conviction of a man's integrity gives him far greater ad- 
A'antages in his intercourse with the world, than he can ever 
gain by hypocrisy and falsehood. The right of navigating the 
Mississippi was finally conceded by Spain. 

The settlement of the controversies growing out of the 
treaty with England proved even more difficult than those 
with Spain. The wounds inflicted on both nations by a war 
of 80 many years were healed, but the scars remained, to re- 
mind the one of what it had suffered, the other of what it had 
lost. Time and mutual good offices were necessary to allay 
that spirit which had been excited on one hand by injuries, on 
the other by successful resistance ; and time indeed had passed 
away, but it had left behind it neither forgiveness nor oblivion. 
It was accompanied on the one hand by new provocations, 
and on the other by additional remonstrances and renewed 
indignation. Negociations continued for a long time, without 
any result but mortification and impatience on the part of the 
people of the United States ; and it was not until the French 
Eevolution threatened the existence of all the established 
governments of Europe, and England among the rest, that a 
treaty was concluded, which brought with it an adjustment 
of the principal points that had so long embroiled the two na- 
tions, and fostered a spirit of increasing hostility. The most 
vexing question of all, however, that of the right of entering 
our ships and impressing seamen, was left unsettled, and it 
became obvious that it would never be adjusted except on the 
principle of the right of the strongest. About the same time 
peace was concluded between the United States and the Em- 
peror of Morocco ; and thus, for a while, our commerce re- 
mained unmolested on that famous sea where, some years 
afterwards, our gallant navy laid the foundation of its pre- 
sent and future glories. 

It is not my design to enter minutely into the principles or 
conduct of the two great parties which, from the period of the 



LIFE! CP WASHINGTON. 261 

adoption of the constitution down to the present time, have 
been struggling for ascendancy in the government of the 
United States. My limits will not permit it if I wished ; but, 
if they did, I should decline the task. My youthful readers 
will know and feel their excitement soon enough, perhaps too 
soon ; and I wish not to become instrumental in implanting in 
their tender minds the seeds of social and political antipathies 
I am attempting to write the life of a great and virtuous 
man ; to exhibit a noble moral example for the imitation of 
the children of my country. My business is with the actions 
of Washington, not with the imputations of his enemies, or 
the struggles of ambitious politicians. Posterity has placed 
him far above such puny trifles and triflers, and I will not as- 
sist, however humbly, in reviving imputations which have 
long since sunk into oblivion or insignificance under the 
weight of his niighty name. 

The French Revolution, which set the Old World in a blaze, 
but for the wisdom and firmness of Washington would have 
involved the United States in the labyrinth of European po- 
licy. He it was that prevented their becoming parties in that 
series of tremendous v/ars which desolated some of the fairest 
portions of the earth ; caused the rivers to run red with blood ; 
overturned and erected thrones ; converted kings into the 
playthings of fortune ; and ended in the creation of a mighty 
phantom which, after being the scourge and terror of the 
world, vanished from our sight on a desolate I'ock of the ocean. 

The people of the United States had continued to cherish a 
strong feeling of gratitude for the good offices of France during 
their straggle for independence ; and in addition to this, their 
sympathies were deeply engaged in behalf of a contest so 
similar in many respects to their own. The institution of the 
French republic was hailed with an enthusiasm equal to tha* 
they felt on the establishment of their own liberties ; and, but 
for the firm and steady hand of Washington, they would have 



252 LIFE OK WASHINGTON, 

taken the bridle between their teeth and run headlong into 
the vortex of European revolution. 

Washington issued his famous proclamation of neutrality, 
from which M. Genet, the minister of the French republic, 
threatened to appeal to the people, a measure understood to 
mean nothing less than revolution. From that moment the 
people began to rally around their beloved chief, like children 
who will not allow their father to be insulted, although they 
themselves may think him Avrong. Tliey sanctioned the pro- 
clamation, and time has ratified their decision. It is believed 
there is not a rational American who does not now feel that 
the course of Washington was founded in consummate wis- 
dom, deep feeling, and eternal justice. 

Having been twice unanimously elected to the highest office 
in the gift of men; having served his country faithfully eight 
years in war, and eight in peace; having settled the govern- 
ment on a permanent basis, established a series of precedents 
for the imitation of his successors, and seeing the United 
States now resting happily in the lap of repose and prosperity ; 
having fulfilled all and more than they had a right to ask of 
him, and consummated all his public duties, Washington now 
signified his intention of declining a re-election. During the 
arduous services of the preceding term, he had been obliged 
to retire for a while to the repose of Mount Vernon for the re- 
establishment of his health, and he now resolved to relieve 
himself finally from all the duties and cares of public life. He 
«had earned this privilege by a whole life of arduous patriotism 
and without doubt wished to close his public career by one 
more act of moderation, as a guide to those who might come 
after him. He believed eight years to be a sufficient term of 
service in the office of president for any one single man, and 
determined to establish the })recedent by setting the example 
himself. 

Feeling on this occasion like h father about to take a final 



LIFE OF WASHINaiON, 253 

leave of his dear children, and give them his parting blessing, 
Washington, at the moment of announcing his intention of re- 
tiring from the world, addressed to the people of the United 
States his last memorable words. These were conveyed in a 
letter to his " Friends and fellow-citizens," fraught with les- 
sons of virtue and patriotism, adorned by the most touching 
simplicity, the most mature wisdom, the most affectionate and 
endearing earnestness of paternal solicitude. He was now 
about to withdraw his long and salutary guardianship from 
this young and vigorous country, his only offspring, and he 
left her the noblest legacy in his power, the priceless riches of 
his precepts and example. 

" In looking forward," he says, " to the moment which is 
intended to terminate the career of my public life, my feelings 
do not permit me to suspend the deep acknowledgment of 
that debt of gratitude which I owe to my beloved country for . 
the many honours it has conferred upon me, or still more for 
the steadfast confidence with which it has supported me, and 
for the opportunities thence enjoyed of manifesting my in- 
violable attachment by services useful and persevering, though 
in usefulness unequal to my zeal. 

" Profoundly penetrated with this idea, I shall carry it with 
me to my grave as a strong incitement to unceasing vows, 
that Heaven may continue to you the choicest tokens of its 
beneficence ; that your union and brotherly affection may be 
perpetual; that the free constitution which is the work of 
your hands may be sacredly maintained ; that its administra- 
tion in every department may be stamped with wisdom and 
virtue ; that in fine, the happiness of these states, under the 
auspices of liberty, may be made complete by so careful a pre- 
servation, and so prudent a use of this blessing, as will acquire 
to them the glory of recommending it to the applause, the af- 
fection, and the adoption of every nation which is yet a 
stranger to it. 



254 lIFi OP WA8HINGH0N, 

" Here, perhaps, I ought to stop. But solicitude for your 
welfare, which cannot end but with my life, and the appre- 
hension of danger natural to such solicitude, urge me, on au 
occasion like the present, to offer to your solemn contempla- 
tion, and to recommend to your frequent review, some senti- 
ments which are the result of much reflection, of no incon- 
Biderable observation, and which appear to me all important 
to your felicity as a people. These will be offered to you with 
the more freedom, as you can only see them in the disin- 
terested warnings of a parting friend, who can possibly have 
no personal motive to bias his counsel. 

" Interwoven as is the love of liberty with every ligament 
of your hearts, no recommendations of mine is necessary to 
fortify the attachment. 

" The unity of government, which constitutes you one 
people, is also now dear to you. It is justly so ; for it is the 
main pillar in the edifice of your real independence, the sup- 
port of your tranquillity at home and your peace abroad ; of 
your prosperity, of that liberty which you so higlily prize^ 
But as it is easy to foresee that from different causes and from 
different quarters, much pains will be taken, many artifices 
employed, to weaken in j^our minds the convictiou of this 
truth, (as this is the point in your political fortress against 
which the batteries of internal and external enemies will be 
constantly and actively, though often covertly and insidiously 
directed,) it is of infinite moment that you should properly 
estimate the immense value of your national union to your 
collective and individual happiness ; that you should cherish 
a cordial, habitual, and immoveable attachment to it, accus- 
toming yourselves to think and speak of it as of the pallfadium 
of your political safety and prosperity; watching for its pre- 
servation with jealous anxiety; discountenancing whatever 
may suggest even a suspicion that it may in any event be 
abandoned; and indignantly frowning upon every attempt to 



lilFE OF WASHINGTON. 255 

to alienate any portion of our country from the rest, or to 
enfeeble the sacred ties that now link together the various 
parts." 

He then proceeds to caution his fellow-citizens against 
those geographical distinctions of North, South, East, and 
West, which, by fostering ideas of separate interests and cha- 
racter, are calculated to weaken the bonds of our union, and 
to create prejudices, if not antipathies, dangerous to its exist- 
ence. He shows, by a simple reference to the great paramount 
interests of each of the different sections, that they are insepa- 
rably intertwined in one common bond ; that they are mu- 
tually dependant on each other ; and that they cannot be rent 
asunder without deeply wounding our prosperity at home, our 
character and influence abroad, laying the foundation for per- 
petual broils among ourselves, and creating a necessity for 
great standing armies, themselves the most fatal enemies to 
the liberties of mankind. 

He earnestly recommends implicit obedience to the laws of 
the land, as one of the great duties enjoined by the funda- 
mental maxims of liberty. " The basis of our political sys- 
tem," he says, " is the right of the people to make and alter 
their constitutions of government ; but the constitution which 
at any time exists, till changed by an explicit and authentic 
act of the whole people, is sacredly obligatory upon all. The 
very idea of the power and right of the people to establish 
government, pre-supposes the duty of every individual to obey 
the established government." 

He denounces " all combinations and associations under 
whatever plausible character, with the real design to direct, 
control, counteract, or awe the regular deliberation and ac- 
tion of the constituted authorities," as destructive to this 
fundamental principle and of fatal tendency. He cautions 
his countrymen against the extreme excitements of party 
spirit; the factious opposition and pernicious excesses to 



256 LIFE OF WASHINOTON. 

which they inevitably tend, until by degrees they gradually 
incline the minds of men to seek security and repose in the 
absolute power of an individual ; and sooner or later the 
chief of some prevailing faction, more able or more fortunate 
than his competitors, turns this disposition to the purposes of 
his own elevation, on the ruins of public liberty. 

He warns those who are to administer the government after 
him, " to confine themselves within their respective constitu- 
tional spheres, refraining, in the exercise of the powers of one 
department, to encroach upon another. The spirit of encroach- 
ment tends to consolidate the powers of all the departments 
in one, and thus to create, whatever the form of government, 
real despotism." 

lie inculcates, with the most earnest eloquence, a regard 
to religion and morality. 

" Of ail the dispositions and habits," he says, " which lead 
to political prosperity, religion and morality are indispensable 
supports. In vain would that man claim the tribute of pa- 
triotism who should labour to subvert these great pillars of 
human happiness, these firmest props of men and citizens. 
The mere politician, equally with the pious man, ought to 
respect and to cherish them. A volume could not trace all 
their connections with private and public felicity. Let it be 
simply added, where is the security for property, for reputa- 
tion, for life, if the sense of religious obligation desert the 
oaths which are the instruments of investigation in courts of 
justice ? And let us with caution indulge the supposition that 
morality can be attained without religion. Whatever may be 
conceded to a refined edacation, or minds of peculiar cast, 
reason and experience both forbid us to expect that national 
morality can prevail in the exclusion of religious prin- 
ciples." 

He recommends the general diffusion of knowledge among 
all classes of the people. " Promote, then," he says, '/ as an 



LIFK CW WASHINGTON. 257 

object of primary importance, institutions for the general dif- 
fusion of knowledge. In proportion as the structure of 
government gives force to public opinion, it is essential that 
public opinion should be enlightened." 

He recommends the practice of justice and good faith, and 
*he cultivation of the relations of peace with all mankind, as 
not only enforced by the obligations of religion and moralitj', 
but by all the maxims of sound policy. For the purpose of a 
successful pursuit of this great object, he cautions his fellow- 
citizens against the indulgence of undue'partiality or prejudice 
in favour or against any nation whatever, as leading to weak 
sacritices on one hand, senseless hostility on the other. 

Most emphatically does he warn them against the wiles of 
foreign influence, the fatal enemy of all the ancient republics. 
He enjoins a watchful jealousy of all equally impartial, other- 
wise it may only lead to the suspicion of visionary dangers on 
one hand, and wilful blindness on the other. 

Then, after recommending a total abstinence from all poUH' 
cal alliances with the nations of Europe ; a due regard to the 
national faith towards public creditors ; suitable establish- 
ments for the defence of the country, that we may not be 
tempted to rely on foreiga aid, which will never be afforded, 
in all probability, without the price of great sacrifices on the 
part of the nation depending on the hollow friendship of jea- 
lous rivals, he concludes this admirable address, which ought 
to be one of the early lessons of every youth of our country, 
in the following affecting words : — 

" Though in reviewing the incidents of my administration, 
I am unconscious of intentional error, I am nevertheless too 
sensible of my defects, not to thiuk it probable that I may 
have committed many errors. Whatever they may be, I fer- 
vently beseech the Almighty to avert or mitigate the evils to 
which they may tend. I shall always carry with me the hope 
that my couptry will never cease to view them with indul- 



258 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

gence, and that after forty-five years of a life dedicated to its 
service, with an upright zeal, the faults of incompetent abili- 
ties will be consigned to oblivion, as myself must soon be to 
the mansions of rest. 

" Relying on its kindness in this as in all other things, and 
actuated by that fervent love towards it, which is so natural 
to a man who views it as the native soil of himself and his 
progenitors for several generations, I anticipate witli pleasing 
expectations that retreat in which I promise myself to realize, 
without alloy, the sweet enjoyment of partaking in the midst 
of my fellow-citizens the benign influence of good laws under 
a free government, the ever favourite object of my heart, and 
the happy reward, as I trust, of our mutual cares, labours 
and dangers." 

On the 4th of March, 1797, he bade a last farewell to public 
life. Those who have n^ad in history the struggles of ambi- 
tious men for power, and seen them in every age and country 
involving whole nations in the horrors of civil strife, only for 
the worthless privilege of choosing a master, will do well to 
mark the conduct of Washington on this occasion. He wait- 
ed only in Philadelphia to congratulate his successor, and pay 
respect to the choice of the people in the person of Mr. Adams. 
He entered the senate chamber as a private citizen, and, while 
every eye glistened at thus seeing him perhaps for the last 
time; grasped the hand of the new president, wished that his 
administration might prove as happy for himself as for hi" 
country, and bowing to the assemblage, retired unattended as 
he came. 

As he was hailed with blessings on entering, so was he 
greeted with blessings when he (quitted for ever the presi- 
dential chair. He camo from his retirement at IMount Vernon 
accompanied by joyful acclamations of welcome, and he was 
followed thither by the love and veneration of millions of 
grateful people. Blessed, and thrice blessed, is he who closes 



LIFE O'F WASHINGTON. 269 

a life of honest fame in such a dignified and happy repose ; 
fortunate the nation that can boast of such an example, and 
still more fortunate the children who can call him Father of 
their Country. 



CHAPTER XXI. 

The last Years of Washington, 

Doing the period which elapsed between his retirement from 
the presidency, and the lamented death of Washington, his 
days were happily and usefully occupied in rural pursuits and 
domestic enjoyments. Influenced by those great motives of 
patriotism which governed all his public acts, he indeed ac- 
cepted the command of the army of the United States, in a 
season when it was believed the authority of his name would 
operate beneficially to his country. But he was never again 
called into action, and the few remaining years of his life were 
passed away in peaceful occupations, and in the bosom of re- 
pose. Mount Vernon was, of course, thronged with visitors ; 
it was the shrine where his countrymen came to pay their de- 
votions, and where distinguished foreigners thronged from all 
parts of Europe, to behold and to converse with the man who, 
after delivering a nation from foreign oppression, had left it in 
. possession of the freedom he had won ; the man who twice 
abdicated a power for which thousands and tens of thousands 
of vulgar heroes had sacrificed themselves and their country. 
He exhibited the same wise economy of time, that same at- 
tention to his domestic affairs and rural occupations, the same 
cheerfulness in hours of relaxation, and the same attention to 
the happiness of those around him. He always rose at, or be- 
fore dawn, lighted his candle, and entered his study, where he 
remained a considerable time, as was supposed, at his devo- 



26Q WFE OF WASHINSTON. 

tions. But no one ever knew, for none ever intruded on his 
sacred privacy. When his occupation was finished, he rung 
for his boots, and walked or rode out to pursue his morning 
exercise and avocations. Visitors did not interfere in the 
least with his course of life ; they were made welcome, by 
permission to do as they pleased, and being convinced by all 
they saw that they interfered not in the least with the economy 
of the household, or the pleasures of others. 

Like all truly great men, the manners of Washington, 
though eminently diguitied, were adorned by the most unaf- 
fected simplicity. He relished the innocent gaiety of youth, 
the sprightly gambols of children, and enjoyed a decorous jest 
or humorous anecdote with a peculiar relish. If, while pe- 
rusing a book or newspaper in the domestic circle, he met 
with any thing amusing or remarkable, he would read it aloud 
for their entertainment, and never failed to participate in 
every innocent or .sportive frolic that was going on around 
him. His dignity was not that of pi'ide or moroseness, but of 
intellect and virtue ; and among those he loved, he laughed 
and joked like others. He was accustomed sometimes to tell 
the following story : — 

On one occasion, during a visit he paid to Mount Vernon, 
while president, he had invited the company of two distin- 
guished lawyers, each of whom afterwards attained to the 
highest judicial situations in this country. They came on 
horseback, and, for convenience, or some other purpose, had 
bestowed their ward-robe in the same pair of saddle-bags^ 
each one occupying his side. On their arrival, wet to the skin 
by a shower of rain, they were shov/n into a chamber to 
change their garments. One unlocked his side of the bag, and 
the first thing he drew forth was a black bottle of whiskey. — 
He insisted that this was his companion's repository; but on 
unlocking the other, there was found a huge twist of tobacco, 
a few pieces of corn-bread, and the complete equipment of a 



LIFE OF WASHTNaTOK. 261 

waggoner's pack-saddle. They had exchanged saddle-bags 
with some traveller by the way, and finally made their ap- 
pearance in borrowed clothes, which fitted them most ludi- 
crously. The general was highly diverted, and amused him- 
self with anticipating the dismay of the waggoner, when he 
discovered this oversight of the men of law. It was during 
this visit that Washington prevailed on one^his guests to enter 
into public life, and thus secured to his country the services of 
one of the mos( distinguished magistrates of this or any other 
age. 

Another anecdote, of a more touching character, is derived 
from a source which, if I were permitted to mention, would 
not only vouch for its truth, but give it additional value and 
interest. When Washington retired from public life, his name 
and fame excited in the hearts of the people at large, and 
most especially the more youthful portion, a degree of rever- 
ence which, by checking their vivacity or awing them into 
silence, often gave him great pain. Being once on a visit to 
Colonel Blackburn, ancestor to the exemplary matron who 
now possesses Mount Vernon, a large company of young 
people were assembled to welcome his arrival, or on some 
other festive occasion. The general was unusually cheerful 
and animated, but he observed that whenever he made his ap- 
pearance, the dance lost its vivacity, the little gossipings in 
corners ceased, and a solemn silence prevailed, as at the pre- 
sence of one they either feared or reverenced too much to 
permit them to enjoy themselves. He strove to remove 
this restraint by mixing familiarly among them, and chat- 
ting with unaffected hilarity. But it was all in vain ; 
there was a spell on the little circle, and he retired among the 
elders in an adjoining room, appearing to be much pained at 
the restraint his presence inspired. When, however, the young 
people had again become animated, he arose cautiously from 
his seat, walked on tip-toe to the door, which was ajar, and 



262 LIFB OF WASHINGTON. 

stood contemplating the scene for nearly a tjuartev of an hour, 
witli a look of genuine and benevolent pleasure, that went to 
the hearts of the parents who were observing. 

As illustrating his character and affording an example of 
Ilia great self-command, the following anecdote is appropriate 
to my purpose. It is derived from Judge Breckenridge* him- 
self, who used often to toll the story. The judge was an ini- 
mitable humourist, and, on a particular ocsasion, fell in with 
Washington at a public house, where a large company had 
gathered together for the purpose of discussing the subject of 
improving the navigation of the Totomac. They supped at 
the same table, and Mr. Breckenridge essayed all his powers 
of humour to divert the general ; but in vain. He seemed 
aware of his purpose, and listened with a smile. However, 
it so happened that the chambers of Washington and Brecken- 
ridge adjoined, and were only separated from each other by a 
thin partition of pine boards. The general had retired first, 
and when the judge entered his own room, he was delighted 
to hear AVasliington, who was already in bed, laughing to 
himself with infinite glee, no doubt at the recollection of his 
stories. 

The constitution of Washington was naturally strong, and 
though a life of labour, anxieties, and hardships had occasion- 
ally impaired his health, still his equanimity, his temperance, 
and his constant exercise on horseback promised a green and 
vigorous old age. But it would appear that this great and 
good man, great in Avhat he performed, but still greater in 
what he resisted, having finished the work for which he seems 
to have been expressly designed^ was to be suddenly called 
away, lest, in the weakness of old age, he might possibly do 
something that would diminish the force of his own invaluable 
example, and thus deprive posterity of its most perfect model. 

* Author «f Modern Chivalry* 



LIFE OP WASHINGTON. 263 

He enjoyed hia last retirement but two or three years, when 
he was called away to heaven. 

I shall describe the last parting with one of hia favourite 
.nephews, as received from his own mouth. 

" During this, my last visit to the general, we walked to- 
gether about the grounds, and talked of various improvements 
he had in contemplation. The lawn was to be extended down 
to the river in the direction of the old vault, which was to be 
removed on account of the inroads made by the roots of the 
trees, with which it is crowned, which caused it to leak. ' I 
intend to place if there,' said he, pointing to the spot where the 
new vault now stands. ' First of all, I shall make this change ; 
for, after all, I may require it before the rest.' 

" When I parted from him, he stood on the steps of the 
front door, where he took leave of myself and another, and 
wished us a pleasant journey, as I was going to Westmoreland 
on business. It was a bright frosty morning, he had taken his 
usual ride, and the clear healthy flush on his cheek, and his 
sprightly manner, brought the remark from both of us that we 
had never seen the general look so well. I have sometimes 
thought him decidedly the handsomest man I ever saw ; and 
when in a lively mood, so full of pleasantry, so agreeable to 
all with whom he associated, that I could hardly realize that 
he was the same Washington whose dignity awed all who ap- 
proached him. 

" A few days afterwards, being on my way home in com- 
pany with others, while we were conversing about Washing- 
ton, I saw a servant rapidly riding towards us. On his near 
approach, I recognized him as belonging to Mount Vernon, 
He rode up— his countenance told the story — he handed me a 
letter. Washington was dead !" 

The old gentleman, for he is now very aged, was overcome 
by the recollection of that moment. Every circumstance con- 



264 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

nected with the departure of him whose life was one series of 
virtuous usefulness, and whose death was mourned by the 
tears of a whole nation, must be interesting to my young 
readers. They may learn from tlie example of Washington, 
that ho Avhose conscience is void of reproach will always die 
without fear. The following account of his last illness is 
copied from a memorandum in the handwriting of Tobias Lear, 
his private secretary and confidential friend, who attended him 
from first to last ; — 

"On Thursday, Dec. 12, the general rod* out to his farms 
at about ten o'clock, and did not return home till past three. 
Soon after he went out the weather became very bad ; rain, 
hail, and snow falling alternately, with a cold wind. When 
he came in, I carried some letters to him to frank, intending 
to send them to the post-office. He franked the letters, but 
said the weather was too bad to send a servant to the office 
that evening. I observed to him that I was afraid he had got 
wet ; he said, no ; his great-coat had kept him dry : but his 
neck appeared to be wet — the snow was hanging on his hair. 

"He came to dinner without changing his dress. In the 
evening he appeared as well as usual. A heavy fall of snow 
took place on Friday, which prevented the general from riding 
out as usual. He had taken cold (undoubtedly from being so 
much exposed the day before), and complained of having a 
sore throat ; he had a hoarseness, which increased in the even- 
ing, but he made light of it, as he would never take any thing 
to carry off a cold, — always observing, ' Let it go as it came.' 
In the evening, the papers having come from the post-office, 
he sat in the room with Mrs. Washington and myself, reading 
them till about nine o'clock ; and when he met with any thing 
which he thought diverting or interesting, he would read it 
aloud. He desired me to read to him the debates of the 
^'irginia Assembly on the election of a senator and governor, 



tliPE OF WAaHINOTOK. 2t>6 

which I did. On his retiring to bed he appeared to be in per- 
fect health, except the cold, which he considered aa trifling 
—he had been remarkably cheerful all the evening. 

"About two or three o'clock on Saturday morning he awoke 
Mrs. Washington, and informed her that he felt very unwell, 
and had an ague. She observed that he could scarcely speak, 
and breathed with difficulty, and she wished to get up and 
call a servant; but the general would not permit her, lest she 
should take cold. As soon as the day appeared, the woman 
Caroline went into the room to make a lire, and the general 
desired that Mr. Ila,wlius, one of the overseers, who was used 
to bleeding the people, might be sent for to bleed him before 
the doctor could arrive. I was sent for — went to the general's 
chamber, where Mrs. Washington w as up, and related to me 
his being taken ill between two and three o'clock, as before 
stated. I found him breathing with difficulty, and hardly able 
to utter a word intelligibly. I went out instantly, and wrote 
a line to Dr. Plask, and sent it with all speed. Immediately 
I returned to the general's chamber, where I found him in the 
same situation I had left him. A mixture of molasses, vinegar, 
and butter was prepared, but he could not swallow a drop ; 
whenever he attempted he was distressed, convulsed, and 
almost suffocated. 

" Mr. Ilawlins came in soon after sunrise and prepared to 
bleed him ; when the arm was ready, the general, observing 
Rawlins appeared agitated, said, with difficulty, ' Don't be 
afraid ;' and after the incision was made, he observed the ori- 
fice was not large enough : however, the blood ran pretty 
freely. Mrs. Washington, not knowing whether bleed- 
ing was proper in the general's situation, begged that 
much might not be taken from him, and desired me to stop it. 
When I was about to untie the string, the general put up his 
M 



266 LTFB OP WASHINGTON. 

hand to prevent it, and, aa soon as he could speak, said, 
* More.' 

" Mrs. Washington still uneasy lest too much blood should 
be drawn, it was stopped after about half a pint had been 
taken. Finding that no relief was obtained from bleeding, 
and that notliing could be swallowed, I proposed bathing the 
throat externally with sal volatile, which was done ; a piece 
of flannel was thou put round his neck. His feet were also 
soaked in warm water, but this gave no relief By Mrs. 
Washington's request, I despatched a messenger for Dr. Brown 
at Port Tobacco. About nine o'clock Dr. Craik arrived, and 
put a blister of cantharides on the throat of the general, and 
took more blood, and had some vinegar and hot water set in 
a teapot, for him to draw in the steam from the spout. 

*'He also had sage-tea and vinegar mixed and used as a 
gargle, but when he held back his head to let it ran down, it 
almost produced suffocation. When the mixture came out of 
his mouth some phlom followed it, and he would attempt to 
cough, which the doctor encouraged, but without effect. 
About eleven o'clock. Dr. Craik bled the generalagain ; no effect 
•<vas produced, and he continued in the same state, unable to 
swallow any thing. Dr. Dick came in about three o'clock, 
and Dr. Brown arrived soon after; when, after consultation, 
the general was bled again : the blood ran slowly, appeared 
very thick, and did not produce any symptoms of fainting. At 
four o'clock the general could swallow a little. Calomel and 
tartar emetic were administered without effect. About half- 
past four o'clock he requested me to ask Mrs. Washington to 
come to his bedside, when he desired her to go down to his 
room', and take from his desk two wills which she would find 
there, and bring them to him, Avhich she did. Upon looking 
at one, which ho observed was useless, he desired her to burn 
it, which she did ; and then took the other and put it aw«y. 
After this was done, I returned to his bedside and took his 



IIFE OF WASHINdTON, 267 

hand. He said to me, 'I find I am going — my breath cannot 
continue long — I believed from the first attack it would be 
fatal. Do yon arrange and record all ray military letters and 
papers ; arrange my accounts and settle my books, as you 
know more about them than any one else ; and let Mr. Raw- 
lins finish recording my other letters, which he has begun.' 
He asked when Mr. Lewis and "Washington would return ? I 
told him that I believed about the twentieth of the month. 
He made no reply. 

" The physicians arrived between five and six o'clock, and 
when they came to his bedside. Dr. Craik asked him if he 
would sit up in the bed : he held out his hand to me and was 
raised up, when he said to the physician — ' I feel myself going ; 
you had better not take any more trouble about me, but let 
me go off quietly ; I cannot last long.' They found what 
had been done was without effect ; he laid down again, 
and they retired, excepting Dr. Craik. He then said to 
him — * Doctor, I die hard, but I am not afraid to go ; I believed 
from the first attack I should not survive it ; my breath can- 
not last long.' The doctor pressed his hand, but could not 
utter a word ; he retired from the bedside and sat by the fire, 
absorbed in grief. About ^eight o'clock, the physicians again 
came into the room, and applied blisters to his legs, but went 
out without a ray of hope. From this time he appeared to 
breathe with less difficulty than he had done, but was very 
restless, continually changing his position, to endeavour to 
get ease. I aided him all in my power, and was gratified 
in believing he felt it, for he would look upon me with eyes 
speaking gratitude, but unable to utter a word without great 
distress. About ten o'clock he made several attempts to speak 
to me before he could effect it; at length he said, '1 am just 
going. Have me decently buried ; and do not let my body 
be put into the vault in less than two days after I am dead.' 
I bowed assent. He looked at me again and said, ' Do you 



^68 LIFE OF WASmNOTOM. 

understand me ?' I replied, * Yes, sir, ' 'Tis well,' said he. 
About ten minutes before he expired, his breathing became 
much easier : he lay quietly : he withdrew his hand from mine 
and felt his own pulse. I spoke to Dr. Craik, who sat by the 
fire ; he came to the bedside. The general's hand fell from 
his wrist ; I took it in mine, and placed it on my breast. Dr. 
Craik placed his hands over his eyes ; and he expired without 
a struggle or a sigh." 

Thus perished the mortal part of Washington, leaving be- 
hind it a fame which no man that ever lived may not envj'. 
The death of monarchs is signalized by courtiers in suits of 
sable, but not of mourning; while that of the Father of his 
Country was wept by millions, who felt as if they had lost a 
dear father. As the sad news, which no pre dous fears had 
prepared them to expect, spread like a black cloud over the 
whole land it was received with such feelings as children 
mourn their beloved parents. " "Washington is dead !" was re- 
peated from mouth to mouth, from lieart to heart, from city to 
city, until it was heard from one extremity of the country to 
the other ; and if ever a man's memory and virtues gained for 
him the noblest of all sublunary rewards, the tears and bless- 
ings of his country, it was those of Washington. 

Though his body was buried in the rustic vault of Mount 
Vernon, his obsequies were celebrated everywhere by proces- 
sions, anthems, prayers, funeral orations, and tears of silent 
sorrow. Public honours were decreed to his memory, but his 
memory requires neither marble tombs nor proud mausoleums 
to render it immortal. His country is his monument, and its 
history his epitaph. So long as public and private worth shall 
be cherished ; so long as true glory is honoured, talents ad- 
mired, or integrity appreciated in the world, so loug shall the 
name of Washington be ([uoted as the great example of virtu- 
Pus heroism and disinterested patriotiam. 



iirfi OP WASHINGTON; 269 

High as is his name, it will continue to rise higher and higher. 
Time, which obliterates and defaces the recollection of false 
heroism, will only add new lustre to the true glory of Wash- 
ington ; the more distant the light, the farther off it will 
be seen, and the brighter it will shine. When the remote 
posterity of the present age shall discover, as they probably 
will, that the lapse of centuries has produced no second 
Washington, and that he still continues to stand alone " in the 
solitude of his glory," they will then better know how to 
honour his virtues and venerate his name. 



CHAPTER XXII. 
Character of Washington. 

The lives of great and good men who have become illustrious 
for services to their country and the world, are principally va- 
luable in sho^ving by the exercise of what great qualities they 
were enabled thus to become the benefactors of mankind. In 
this manner their example is carried down to posterity, and in 
addition to the benefits derived immediately from their actions, 
they become useful to all succeeding ages, by exciting the de- 
sire of imitation, through the medium of admiration and love. 

It is not too much to say, that no character on record fur- 
nishes a safer or mox*e noble object for the imitation of every 
class of mankind, from the ruler of nations to the humblest citi- 
zen, than that of Washington. Equally admirable both in a 
public and private station, as a military chief, a civil ruler, and 
a useful citizen, nothing but good can arise from the contem- 
plation of his example, in every circumstance and situation of 
his life. Those who follow in his footsteps can never go 
astray. 

Though the simple relation which has been given furnishes 



27(1 LIFE OF WASHINflTON. 

the best exemplification of his great qualities, and would a^em 
to render an analysis of his character unnecessary, yet addres- 
sing myself, as I do, to the youth of ray country, it may not be 
useless to them if I attempt to point out, one by one, those 
virtues and talents which to me seem to have contributed most 
to his own glory, and to the salvation of his country. All are 
exemplitied in his life and actions, but they cannot be too often 
or too distinctly presented to the notice of my youthful rea- 
ders. Every thing truly good and beautiful becomes the more 
so by study and contemplation. 

It is impossible to read the speeches and letters of Wash- 
ington, and follow his whole course of life, without receiving 
the conviction of his steady, rational, and exalted piety. Every- 
where he places his chief reliance, in the difhcult, almost hope- 
less circumstances in w^hich he was so often involved, on the 
justice of that great Being who holds the fate of men and of 
nations in the hollow of his hand. His hopes for his country 
are always founded on the righteousness of its cause, and the 
blessing of Heaven. His was the belief of reason and revela- 
tion ; and that belief was illustrated and exemplified in all his 
actions. No parade accompanied its exercise, no declamation 
its exhibition ; for it was his opinion that a man who is always 
boasting of his religion, is like one who continually proclaims 
his honesty — he would trust neither one nor the other. He 
was not accustomed to argue points of faith, but on one oc- 
casion, in reply to a gentleman who expressed doubts on the 
subject, thus gave his sentiments : — 

"It is impossible to account for the creation of the universe 
without the agency of a Supreme Being. 

" It is impossible to govern the universe without the aid of 
a Supreme Being. 

" It is impossible to reason without arriving at a Supreme 
Being. Religion is as necessary to reason, as reason is to re- 
ligion. The one cannot exist without the other. A reasoning 



UJTE OF WASHINGTON. 271 

being would loae his reason in attempting to account for the 
great phenomena of nature, had he not a Supreme Being to re- 
fer to ; and well has it been said, that if there had been no God, 
mankind would have been obliged to imagine one." 

On this basis of piety was erected the superstructure of his 
virtues. He perceived the harmonious affinity subsisting be- 
tween the duties we owe to Heaven and those we are called 
upon to sustain on earth, and made his faith the foundation of 
his moral obligations. He cherished the homely but invaluable 
maxim, that " honesty is the best policy," and held the tem- 
poral as well as eternal happiness of mankind, could never be 
separated from the performance of their duties to Heaven and 
their fellow-creatures. He believed it to be an inflexible law, 
that sooner or later, a departure from the strict obligations of 
truth and justice would bring with it the loss of the confidence 
of mankind, and thus deprive us of our best support for pros- 
perity in this world, as well as our best hope of happiness iu 
that to come. In short, he believed and practised on the high 
principle, that the invariable consequence of the performance 
of a duty was an increase of happiness. What others call 
good fortune, he ascribed to a great and universal law, estab- 
lisliing an indissoluble connection between actions and their 
consequences, and making every man responsible to himself 
for his good or ill success in this word. Under that superin- 
tending Providence which shapes the ends of men, his senti- 
ments and actions show that he believed, that, as a general 
rule, every rational being was the architect of his own happi- 
ness. Ninety-nine times in a hundred, the stone that falls on 
our heads is thrown up by ourselves. 

If we trace the noble course of Washington, we shall find 
these truths exemplified at every step of his rising greatness. 
When, at the age of fourteen, he sacrificed his most cherished 
hopes, and resigned his warrant as a midshipman in the British 
navy, to filial piety, he laid the foundation of all his future 



272 M¥B OF WASHINGTON. 

greatness. Thia act of duty propared the way for that career 
which ended in freeing a nation, and earning the noblest of 
all titles, that of Father of liia country. 

.So, in like manner, we sec this great principle exemplified 
in tho consequences growing directly out of his early habits 
of life. His manly steadiness of character, his attention to 
study for the purpose of supplying the deficiencies of his early 
education, his fraternal kindness to his brother Laurence, his 
industry in pursuing his profession of surveyor, and the repu- 
tation he early established for inflexible truth and integrity, 
were rewarded by the respect and confidence they inspired in 
all who knew or ever heard of him. On these qualities, con- 
nected with and sustained by the basis of a great and well- 
constituted intellect, was erected the edifice of his future fame. 
On these it arose, on these it reposed, and will repose through 
all succeeding time. 

It is impossible for my 3'oung countrymen to read the histoiy 
of his life and actions, without perceiving, as clear as the light 
of day, that it was not less his private than his public virtues 
that stood him in stead, when invested with the great prero- 
gative of defending his country. Power without authority is 
in a degree personal. It originates in the noblest of all 
sources, superior virtue and superior intelligence. In a free 
country especially, no man who is despised can govern. 

It was this authority', derived exclusively from his personal 
character, that enabled Washington to consummate the revo- 
lution. This was the power which kept together the loose 
fragments of the conferation, when all the landmarks of old 
times were swept away, and no man knew his rights or his 
duties. He governed equally by his pen and his sword; 
everywhere, in times of dismay and suffering, we find him 
the inspiring soul, the indefatigable soldier, the defender and 
the Mentor of the young Telemachus committed to his guid- 
ance. His untiring industry enabled him to attend to every 



tlPB.OB' WASHINGTON. 273 

thing ; his sagacity to provide against all emergencies by his 
urgent representations to Congress and the states ; and the 
opinion universally entertained of him, gave to his advice all 
the authority of wisdom and virtue. In all probability our 
cause had been lost, but for this sublime confidence in his in- 
tegrity and patriotism. It was his virtues, after all, that 
saved his country. But for the unshaken confidence inspired 
by these, the hero of Saratoga might have superceded him in 
his command, and the surrender of Burgoyne produced the ruin 
of our cause. 

What but this personal authority, founded, not in his power, 
but in his reputation, enabled him to retain the obedience, con- 
fidence, and affections of half-starved, half-naked, shoeless and 
shirtless soldiers, when retreating day after day, month after 
month, before a superior enemy ; or when encamped in miser- 
able huts, in the dead of winter, exposed to all the tempta- 
tions of idleness, the past afforded no pleasing recollections, 
the present nothing but misery, the future nothing but des- 
pair ? 

What but this supremacy of virtue enabled him to keep alive 
the dying energies of an exhausted, almost hopeless people, in 
the dark periods of the war when every man's house, 
and every man's fields were at the mercy of an arro- 
gant enemy, who considered the struggles of liberty an of- 
fence against Heaven, and treated its asserters as if they were 
infidels ? And what was it that so often stimulated Congress 
and the States to the adoption of measures which, however 
dilatory and inefficient, enabled him still to keep the flame of 
liberty alive in the mountains of the Hudson, when it seemed 
everywhere else extinguished, or flickering its last light, on 
the earth ? 

Whoever examines the subject with a critical eye, will find, 
indeed, that his was the great influence which pervaded every? 
M .5 



274 LIFB OF WASHINGTON. 

where, and at all times. In the conduct of the revolutionary 
war ; in the almost anarchy which succeeded the establishment 
of independence ; in producing the call of a convention ; in 
bringing about the adoption of the constitution ; in adminis- 
tering its principles, and establishing those precedents so ne- 
cessary to give it stability of action ; and, finally, in the noble 
example of moderation he exhibited in voluntarily retiring 
from power, this moral influence, arising from the authority 
of his personal chacter for inflexible virtue, was the great ce- 
ment of the Union. Well and truly was it said by a distin- 
guished member of the House of Representatives, in announc- 
ing the death of Washington, that, " More than any other indi- 
vidual, and as much as to one individual was possible 
has he contributed to found this our wide-spreading empire 
and to give to the Western World independence and freedom" 
— " that he was first in war, first in peace, and first in the 
hearts of his countrymen." 

The courage of Washington was both morally and physically 
perfect. It was that of sentiment and nerve ; it was not 
merely the absence of all fear, but the impulse of a stronge, 
unchangeable, and vigorous feeling, prompting him to ex- 
posure and exertion in the cause of his country. It was 
like all his other virtues, steady and true to noble pur- 
poses. It consisted, not in occasional outbreakings in the 
moment of keen excitement, but of an infinite series of 
wrestling with dangers, having scarcely a ray of hope to 
sustain their endurance, and unaccompanied by the stimulus 
of glory or success. As a soldier, he encountered per- 
petual dangers with a coolness and self-possession never 
on any occasion shaken or even disturbed ; and, as a citizen 
in arms against a proud, unyieldiug parent, inflexible in her 
claims and unforgiving in her vengeance, he may be justly 
said to have faced for j^ears, without shrinking, another 
danger, a thousand times more appalling than the cannon and 



IIFS OF WASHINGTON. 275 

the bayonet. It is sufficient to say that, though through 
nearly the whole of the revolutionary struggle, he was com- 
pelled to the hard necessity of retreating before a superior 
enemy, neither friends or foes, rivals or detractors, ever 
breathed a whisper against the courage of Washingson. 

Industry is a homely virtue it is true, but it ought not on 
that account to be despised by my young readers. The power 
to do good, or to perform great actions, is nothing without 
the will ; and those who are idle or indolent never possess 
that will. Without industry, either of body or mind, no one 
can ever become great, or even useful to himself or to others. 
The soil may be rich, but without cultivation it will produce 
little else than worthless weeds, luxurious poisons, or flowers 
that fade before they flourish. Cultivation must be accom- 
panied by labour. "We often see men become rich or great 
by some lucky speculation or fortunate accident, but it is only 
the wealth and greatness of a day. That which is not the 
means of acquiring, can never be of preserving a great good ; 
and he who supposes that labour and attention are not neces- 
sary to the attainment as well as retaining of prosperity, will 
one day surely learn, by woful experience, that the condition 
on which we receive all our real enjoyments, and the capacity 
f)r their relish, is that of earning them by our own exertions. 
Could virtue be inherited like wealth, it would be compara- 
tively worthless. The efforts necessary to its attainment give 
it value. 

The industry of Washington was one of his great character- 
istics, and may be said to have accompanied him from his 
cradle to his grave. This was one great foundation of the 
success which accompanied him through life. In a good 
cause he never despaired or remitted his labours. By divid- 
ing his time into different portions, each devoted to one par- 
ticular class of occupations or duties, and never suffering any 
ordinary temptation or circumstance to interfere, he had a 



57fi I-IFE OF wiSHIKaTON.' 

time for nil thinga, and time enough for every thing^ His 
recreations never interfered with his labours, nor his 
labours with his recreations. When his work was done, then, 
and not till then, did he come forth among his guests, or his 
famil}', in the serene majesty of his virtues, cheerful and kind, 
indulgent and conciliatorj% His attentions were paid with 
a graceful humility ; his voice was attuned to kindness ; and 
those accustomed to be the object of his smiles, say that 
there was something in them peculiarly touching. They 
"were full of benignity and chastened cheerfulness. They 
were more apt to draw tears of gratitude, than to awaken 
gaiety. One of his kinsmen, now no more, who was, when 
a child, much at 3Iount "S'ernon, has told me that when the 
general patted him on the head, and gave him one of his af- 
fectionate smiles, he always felt the tears swelling under his 
eyelids. 

The temperance of Washington was, like all his other vir- 
tues, under the dominion of temperance. It consisted, not in 
a total abstinence from the authorized indulgences of this life, 
but in their salutary enjoyment. lie did not turn with sour 
disgust, or affected disdain, from the table which the Giver of 
all good had beneficently spread before him, but partook of the 
banquet moderately and thankfully. On no occasion is there 
the least authority for supposing he ever transcended the 
bounds of moderation in the enjoyments of life, or the indul- 
gence of those passions universally implanted in the nature of 
man. He consequently escaped all the delusions of excess, 
which consist in false, misty, and exaggerated views or de- 
signs, stimulated into action by artificial excitement, and 
misleading the judgment, while they aggravate the passions 
and madden the imagination. Thus his intellect was always 
clear, and the admirable physical powers bestowed upon him 
by nature were never debaied to bad purpose*, or weakened 
by licentiouK indulgence. 



i.ip« av Washington; ^11 

A steadyj unwavering perseverance in the purauit of great 
and good ends was another striking characteristic of Wash- 
ington. He neither decided rashly, or weakly abandoned his 
decisions when made. Once on the track of right, he fol- 
lowed it without wavering in the path, or relaxing in the 
pursuit, though the object might seem gradually to recede 
from his view, and on the point of disappearing for ever. The 
checks and disasters he encountered in his arduous, almost 
hopeless military career, never for a moment cooled his ardour 
or palsied his vigour ; and the repeated failures of his advice 
and remonstrances to the civil authorities of his country, only 
increased the vigour and eloquence with which he renewed 
his expostulations. Disappointment only added to the force 
of his exertions in a good cause ; and the neglect of their duty 
by others but made him more vigorous in the performance of 
his own. In the whole course of the revolution there is not 
a single instance in which his courage flagged, or his perse- 
verance abated. 

But the greatest of all the virtues of Washington, and that 
which he most gloriously illustrated through his whole life, 
•was his pure, exalted patriotism. This is the noblest feature 
of his character, and in this he stands, to say the least, on a 
level with any name in ancient or modern history. A true 
and faithful servant of his country, he devoted to her his days, 
nights, and yearsy and never flinched or swerved from those 
great duties which, under all circumstances, and in every 
situation, all men owe to their country, yet so few are willing 
to pay. For his country and its holy cause he endured all, 
and shrunk at nothing but duplicity, falsehood, and dishonour. 
For her he would have sacrificed everything, but the obliga- 
tions of religion and morality. No temptation of ease, of 
luxury, or advantage, could draw him aside from the path of 
toil, anxiety, and suffering, he trod for so many years, ani-' 
mated and sustained alone by the love of his country and of 



278 LIFE OF WASHINSTON. 

liberty. He never mentions that country without some ac- 
companying epithet of affectionate devotion ; and not only in 
words, but in deeds, demonstrated that this was the great 
ruling principle of his life. His was the pure ambition of an 
exalted mind ; he sought not his own advantage, but the glory 
and happiness of his fellow-citizens, and scorned to be great 
at the price of the degradation of all around him. There is 
not a single trace in the whole course of his life, from which 
can be derived the remotest ground for a suspicion that he 
was influenced by any personal motive to accept or to 
exercise the functions of any one of the high offices he ad- 
ministered. 

He held them no longer than he thought necessary or useful 
to his country. By accepting the office of commander-in- 
chief of the American armies, at the commencement of the war 
of the Revolution, he risked every thing dear to man — ^his per- 
son, his fortune, and his fame. As the great leader in the cru- 
sade of liberty, its defeat would have brought down certain 
ruin on his head. In the gloomiest period of the struggle, 
if he had retired from his station, and left his country without 
a pilot in the midst of the breakers, he might perhaps have 
been justified in the sight of the world and of posterity, by 
the utter neglect of that country to follow his advice, or aid 
him with the means necessary to her defence. Yet adversity 
only quickened his patriotism to greater exertions of patience, 
perseverance, and valour, and the sluggish insensibility of 
others seemed only to inspire him with more unconquerable 
energy. 

It is in this glorious light of a patriot that I wish most 
especially to hold him up to the admiration and emula- 
tion of my youthful readers. The duty which men owe 
to their country is alike common to every citizen. It is 
the condition of our birthright ; it is born with us, and 
should only expire with our latest breath. The children 



LIFE OP WASHINGTON. 279 

of America should be taught to look upon it as their be- 
nign mother, from whose bosom they drew their nourish- 
ment, and under whose protection they enjoy all the comforts 
of existence. It is her air they breathe^ it is her soil they cul- 
tivate, it is her waters they drink, her food that sustains, and 
her laws that protect them in the enjoyment of their happiness. 
Nothing but her tyranny and oppression can ever justify them 
in deserting her in the hour of peril ; and he who will not 
raise his arm in her defence, is unworthy of her protection and 
benefits. Those who require examples to spur them on to 
the performance of these high duties, have only to turn their 
eyes to Washington ; and surely if this nation should ever for- 
feit its reputation, or tamely surrender its liberties, its dis- 
grace will be doubly deep, that it sinned in the face of the 
purest and most exalted example with which a people was 
ever blessed. 

Most especially it is the first duty of every youth of this 
country to love, and cherish, and protect it in every situation 
which requires their services. In her bosom they repose in 
peace and safety, under a system of laws that metes out jus- 
tice and protection to all. From her bosom they draw the 
means of existence, more liberal and more equally bestowed 
than in any other land under heaven ; and never should they 
offer up their thanks to the great Giver of all good without 
breathing a prayer of gratitude for their lot having been cast 
in a country so happy and free. Never was there a region on 
the face of the earth more richly entitled to the love of its ci- 
tizens, or more worthy of being defended by its children. 

Nor was Washington alone distinguished by those qualities 
which command the respect and confidence of mankind with- 
out winning their love. He was kind and benevolent as 
well as just. He gave away freely to those who deserved his 
bounty ; yet, though his humanity was such that he would 
i-elieve the starving beggar without inquiring into his deserts, 



28ff tIPK OP WASHINGTON/ 

fltill, he neithei' encouraged idleness by his bounties, nor guilt 
by his patronage. He considered it a robbery of the deserv- 
ing to pamper those who were the authors of their own mi- 
series. That which he gained by his own economy, and at- 
tention to his affairs, he gave freely away, but not without 
discrimination, or at the expense of others. The obligations 
of justice, which are the basis of all the virtues, preceded the 
indulgence ot charity. He paid his debts first, and considered 
all the rest his own, to dispose of as he pleased. No creditor 
ever called a second time for his dues, nor was an honest 
debtor ever oppressed. 

In a letter to his overseer, written in 1775, he gives the fol- 
lowing directions : — 

"Let the hospitality of the house, with respect to the poor, 
be kept- up. Let no one go away hungrj'. If any of this 
kind of people should be in want of corn, supply their neces- 
sities, provided it does not encourage them in idleness ; and I 
have no objection to your giving my money in charity, to the 
amount of forty or fifty pounds a year, when you think it 
well bestowed. AVhat I mean by having no objection is, that 
i^ is my desire it should be done. You are to consider, that 
neither myself nor wife are now in the way to do these good 
offices. In all other respects, I recommend it to you, and 
have no doubt of your observing the greatest economy and 
frugality ; as I suppose you know that I do not get a farthing 
for my services here, more than my expenses. It becomes 
necessary, therefore, for me to be saving at home." 

His overseer had also orders to fill a large crib with corn 
every season, for the use of his poor neighbours : and when, 
on one occasion, much distress prevailed in the country round, 
on account of the failure of the harvest, he purchased several 
hundred bushels of corn at a high price, to be given away to 
those who were most in want, and most deserving of relief. 



LIS-E OF wASfttKCltON; 281 

He also foanded a charity-school in Alexandria : and if it 
were necessary, or within the limits of my design, I could 
give various other instances of his uniform and well-directed 
benevolence. It was a quiet and unfailing stream, which, 
never brawled its way in the noonda}'' sun, but flowed si- 
lently and unseen, and only betrayed its course by t!he green 
fertility of its margin. 

His disinterestedness is strikingly displayed in the stipula-' 
tion which formed the condition of his consenting to accepts 
the command of the armies of freedom. It was that he should 
receive no more than the precise amount of the expenditures 
incurred in the discharge of his public duties ; and my young: 
readers may have seen what these were in the course of eightr. 
years. His declining to accept one hundred and fifty shares 
in the public works authorized by his native state, is another 
proof of this great and noble quality, consonant with hia 
whole life and actions. 

In his domestic and social relations, the sentiment he uni- 
formly excited was reverence, mingled with affection. None 
of his family ever ventured to treat him with disrespect, and 
none ever feared to approach him with confidence. He had 
no child ; but the grandchildren of Mrs. Washington by her 
first husband, together with his own nephews and nieces who 
survive, can bear testimony to his parental cares, as well as 
his undeviating kindness towards his relatives and depen- 
dants. And here I will take what seems to me a proper op- 
portunity of refuting a false insinuation, which appears in one 
of the last places that it might reasonably be expected to oc- 
cur. In the edition of Plutarch's Lives, translated by .lohn 
and William Langhorne, and revised by the Rev. Francis 
Wrangham, M.A., F.R.S., there is the following note appended 
to the biography of Cato the Censor, whose kindness is said 
to have extended to his cattle and sheep. " Yet irashington, 



Sg2^ I-IVK OF WASHINGTON. 

ihe Tertius Cato of these latter times, is said to have sold his old 
charger /" 

On first seeing this insniuation of a calumny founded ou 
hearsay, I applied to Colonel Lear, who resided at INIount 
Vernon, and acted as the private secretary of Washington at 
the time of his death, and many years previously, to learn 
whether there was any foundation for the report. His denial 
was positive and unequivocal. The horse of "Washington, 
sold, not by him, but one of his heirs, after his death, was that 
which he was accustomed to ride about his plantation after 
his retirement from public life. The aged war-horse was 
placed under the special care of the old black servant who had 
served the same campaigns with him ; was never rode after 
the conclusion of the war, and died long before his illustrious 
master. 

In analyzing the character of Washington, there is nothing 
that strikes me as more admirable than its beautiful symme- 
try. In this respect it is consummate. His different quali- 
ties were so nicely balanced, so rarely associated, of such har- 
monious affinities, that no one seemed to interfere with ano- 
ther, or predominate over the whole. The natural ardour of 
his disposition was steadily restrained by a power of self- 
command which it dared not disobey. His caution never de- 
generated into timidity, nor his courage into imprudence or 
temerity. His memory was accompanied by a sound, unerr- 
ing judgment, which turned its acquisitions to the best advan- 
tage; his industry and economy of time neither rendered 
him dull or unsocial ; his dignity never was vitiated by pride 
or harshness, and his unconquerable firmness was free from ob- 
stinacy or self-willed arrogance. He was gigantic, but at the 
game time he was well-proportioned and beautiful. It was 
this symmetry of parts that diminished the apparent magni- 
tude of the whole : as in those tine specimens of Grecian ar- 
chitecture, where the size of the temple seems lessened by its 



IirB OF WASHINaTON. 283 

perfection. There are plenty of men who become distin- 
guished by the predominance of one single faculty, or the ex- 
ercise of a solitary virtue ; but few, very few, present to our 
contemplation such a combination of virtues, unalloyed by a 
single vice ; such a succession of virtues, both public and pri- 
vate, in which even his enemies can find nothing to blame. 

Assuredly he stands almost alone in the world. He occupies 
a region where there are, unhappily for mankind, but few in- 
habitants. The Grecian biographer could easily find parallels 
for Alexander and Ccesar, but were he living now, he would, 
meet with great difficulty in selecting one for Washington. — 
There seems to be an elevation of moral excellence, which 
though possible to attain to, few ever approach. As in ascend- 
ing the lofty peaks of the Andes, we at length arrive at a line 
where vegetation ceases, and the principle of life seems ex- 
tinct ; so in the gradations of human character, there is an 
elevation which is never attained by mortal man. A few have 
approached it, and none nearer than "Washington. 

He is eminently conspicuous as one of the great benefactors 
of the human race, for he not only gave liberty to millions, but 
his name now stands, and will for ever stand, a noble example 
to high and low. He is a great work of the almighty Artist, 
which none can study without receiving purer ideas and more 
lofty conceptions of the grace and beauty of the human charac- 
ter. He is one that all may copy at different distances, and 
whom none can contemplate without receiving lasting and 
salutary impressions of the sterling value, the inexpressible 
beauty of piety, integrity, courage, and patriotism, associated 
with a clear, vigorous, and well-poised intellect. 

Pure, and widely disseminated as is the fame of this great 
and good man, it is yet in its infancy. It is every day taking 
deeper root in the hearts of his countrymen, and the estimation 
of strangers, and spreading its branches wider and wider, to 
the air and the skies, He is already become the saint of li- 



284 uvff. OP 'wA»mvttir6^': 

berty, which has gathered new honours by beirtgf associated 
with his name ; and when men aspire to free nations, they 
must take him for their model. It is, then, not without ample 
reason that the suffrages of mankind have combined to place 
"Washington at the head of his race. If we estimate him by 
the examples recorded in history, he stands without a parallel 
in the virtues he exliibited, and the vast, unprecedented con- 
sequences resulting from their exercise. The whole world 
was the theatre of his actions, and all mankind are destined to 
partake sooner or later in their results. He is a hero of a new 
species: he had no model : will he have any imitators? Time, 
which bears the thousands and thousands of common cut- 
throats to the ocean of oblivion, only adds new lustre to his 
fame, new force to his example, and new strength to the re- 
verential affection of all good men. "What a glorious fame is 
his, to be acquired without guilt, and enjoyed without envy ; 
to be cherished by millions living, hundreds of millions yet un- 
born ! Let the children of my country prove themselves worthy 
of his virtues, his labours, and his sacrifices, by reverencing 
his name and imitating his piety, integrit)'', industry, fortitude, 
patience, forbearance, and patriotism. So shall they become 
iitted to enjoy the blessings of freedom and the bounties of 
heaven. 



FINIS. 



INDEX. 



CHAPTER L 

introduction. Birth of Washington, Description of his Birth-place. Of the 
"House in which he was born. Some Particulars of his early Education. 
His Father. His Mother. His first, second, and last Teacher. Early Mili- 
tary Propensities. Character at School. His Strength and Activity. Anec- 
dote. Becomes Surveyor to the Estate of Lord Fairfax. Anecdote of that 
Nobleman. Receives a Midshipman's Warrant. His Military Studies, yaffe 7 

CHAPTER II. 

Disputes between France and England founded on the Right of Discovery. 
Encroachments on the Ohio. Situation and Apprehensions of Virginia. 
Preparations for Defence. Washington appointed Adjutant-General. Vo- 
lunteers to carry a Letter to the French Commandant on the Ohio. Incidents 
on the Journey. Extracts from his Journal. Is Shot at by an Indian. Is 
near perishing from Cold, and narrowly escapes Drowning. Contrast be- 
tween Washington in the Wilderness and Washington the Father of his 
Country. Returns to Williamsburg. ...... 28 

CHAPTER III. 

"Washington accompanies his Brother Lawrence to Bermuda, where he gets the 
Small-pox. Affection of Lawrence for his Brother George. He rejoices in 
his rising reputation, predicts his future Eminence, and, when he dies, leaves 
him the Estate at Mount Vernon. Troubles between France and England. 
Virginia raises a Regiment. Washington declines the command, but accepts 
the Post of Lieutenant-Colonel. Proceeds to the Great Meadows, and builds 
Fort Necessity. Succeeds to the command of the Regiment. Advances to- 
wards Fort Duquesne. Retreats to his Fort. Is besieged and captured. Re- 
tires from the Service soon after in Disgust, but accepts the Post of volunteer 
aid to General Braddock. Departure for Fort Duquesne. . . .36 

CHAPTER IV. 

departure of Washington with Braddock's Army. Falls sick, and is left at 
the Great Meadows. Joins the Army the day before the Battle. His advice 
disregarded. The army surprised and defeated. Braddock shot. Behaviour 
of Washington during the Fight. Retreat of the Army. Predictions of the 
the Old Indian Chief and the Rev. Mr. Davies. Sixteen Companies raised, 
and the Command given to Washington. Sufferings of the People of the 
Frontier from Indian Barbarity. DiiHculties in defending them. Picture of 
Washington in his Uniform of Provincial Colonel. His Account of the 
Massacre of a Family by the Indians. Jealousy and Imbecility of Governor 
Dinwiddle. Speech of Colonel Barre. Lord Loudon. Franklin's Accounc 
of him. General Forbes. Expedition against, and Capture of. Fort Du- 
quesne. War carried to the Northern Frontier, Washington resigns his 
Conunissiou. .13 



286 INDEX. 

CHAPTER V. 

Marriage. Domestic Life and Habits of Washington. First Meeting with Mrs, 
Custis. Picture of that Lady at the time she captivated Washington. Old 
Jeremy. His Conversations. Sketch of Mount Vernon. Division of Wash- 
ington's Time. Hours of rising, retiring to rest, breakfasting, dining, &c. 
His Temperance. Kindness to his Relatives residing at Mount Vernon. 
Discipline of his Servants. Extracts from his old Almanac of 1762. His 
Custom of retiring to read. Anecdote of old Jeremy. Troubles with Eng- 
land. Is elected to the First Congress ...... 60 

CHAPEER VI. 

Washington called from his Retirement to attend the first Congress at Philadel- 
phia. His Age and Appearance. His Strength and Activity. Anecdote of 
Mr. Peale. Portrait painted by him. Anecdote related by a Servant of 
Washington. Particular Description of his person. Is chosen Commander- 
in-chief. His letters to Mrs. Washington, on accepting and departing to as- 
sume the Command. The Consequences to which he exposed himself in so 
doing. State of the Public Mind. Ideas of Europe, and especially English 
Superiority. Arrival and Reception at Boston. Situation of the Army. 67 

CHAPTER VII. 

Causes of the Revolutionary War. AfKiir of Lexington and Concord. Battle 
of Bunker's Hill. Washington arrives at Boston, and assumes the Command. 
State of the American Army. Probable Causes of the Inactivity of General 
Howe. Attempt to dislodge the Americans from Dorchester Heights. Eva- 
cuation of Boston by the British. Washington and his Army receive the 
Thanks of Congress. His firm stand in behalf of the American Prisoners, 
and Threat of Retaliation. General Howe relaxes the System pursued by 
Governor Gage. 75 

CHAPTER VIII. 
Character of the War. The British evacuate Boston, and Washington proceeds 
to New York. State of Aflfairs there. Declaration of Independence. Arri- 
val of Lord Howe at Sandy Hook. Sends a Flag with Proposals for Con- 
ciliation. Lands on Long Island. Battle, and Defeat of the Americans, 
Fine Retreat of Washington. This ill Success does not impair the Public 
Confidence in him. Abortive Meeting of a Committe of Congress with Lord 
Howe, and Rejection of his Offers of Pardon. ..... 94 

CHAPTER IX. 
Gloomy State of Affairs. Conduct of Washington. Operations on York 
Island, and in Westchester County. Capture of Fort Washington, and Re- 
treat of the Americans into New Jersey. Ill Treatment of the American 
Prisoners. Barbarities of the Hessians. Congress not to be blamed for de- 
pending at first on the Militia, Caution, firmness, and perseverance of Wash- 
ington. Retreats to Trenton. Proclamation of Amnesty by Lord Howe. 
Battle of Trenton. Critical Situation of Washington. Brilliant Affair at 
Princeton, and its Consequences. The Armies retire to Winter-quarters. 106 

CHAPTER X. 

Winter Operations. Eulogium on the First Congress. Plau of the ensuing 

Campaign. Successful Caution of Washington. Howe changes his Plans. 

Lands at the Head of the Chesapeake, and advances towards Philadelphia. 

Battle oi Brandywine, Lafayette wotmded, Howe cuteis PtuladeJ^hia. 



INDEX. 281 

Battle of G«rmaBtown. Operations along the Delaware. fietlBaok. ©eath 
of Count Donop. Operations in the North. Savage Warfare. Battle of 
Bennington. Repulse at Fort Stanwix. Desertion of Burgoyne's Indians. 
Battle at Bemis Heights. Surrender of General Burgoyne, and delicate Con- 
duct of his Conquerors 127 

CHAPTER XI. 

Number of Burgoyne's Army. New Hopes of the Friends of Liberty. Conduct 
of Gates. Intrigue to supplant Washington. Parliament. Lord Chatham. 
Sufferings of the Army at Valley Forge. Paper-money. Howe's inactivity. 
Proceedings of Parliament. Bill of Pacification, and its Reception by Con- 
gress. General Howe resigns. His Character. Sir Henry Clinton. He 
evacuates Philadelphia. Is followed by Washington. Battle of Monmouth, 
and Conduct of General Lee. He is tried, and sentenced to a Year's suspen- 
sion. His Life, Character, and Death. Reflections on the Colonial Feel- 
ing. . , . . 138 

CHAPTER XII. 
Hopes derived from the new Posture of Affairs. Arrival of the French Fleet, 
Difficulties about Military Etiquette. Dispute between Count d'Estaing and 
General Sullivan. Washington still compelled to act on the Defensive. 
British Army marches up the Hudson. Affair at Egg Harbour. British 
Fleet dispersed by a Storm. D'Estaing sails for the West Indies. The 
Army erects Huts in the Highlands, and goes into Winter-quarters. Wash- 
ington's Spring. He dissuades Congress from attacking Canada . . 134 

CHAPTER XIII. 

Consequences of the Alliance with France. Remission of activity on the par- 
of Congress and the People. The British Ministers roused to new exactions. 
Incitements of Washington to Vigilance and Preparation. Wants and dis- 
affection of the Troops. Mutiny of the Connecticut Line. Overtures for 
Pacification rejected by Congress. Massacre of Wyoming. Capture of 
Stony Point. General Wayne. The Tide of War flows towards the 
South. , . 160 

CHAPTER XIV. 

state of the South. Marion. Anecdote. Situation of the Northern Army. 
Firmness and Patriotism of the Army and People. Effects of the French 
Alliance. Paper-money. Defects in the Military Establishment. Disposi- 
tion to Mutiny. Resolution of the Officers to Resign. Prevented by the 
Influence of Washington. Bank in Philadelphia. Patriotism of American 
Women. Expostulation of Washington with Congress, Incursion of the 
Enemy into New Jersey, and noble conduct of the Jersey Blues. Washing- 
ton. Clinton comes from the South. Invades New Jersey, and retires. Ar- 
rival of a French Fleet and Army. Operations in consequence. Close of 
tlie Campaign. 166 

CHAPTER XV. 
Treason of Arnold. Capture and Death of Andre. - « . ,183 

CHAPTER XVI. 

Opening of the Year 1781. Mutinies. Conduct of Washington, and his Mo- 
tives. Commences a Journal. Extracts. Reprimand to his Overseer. Dis- 
putes between New York and Vermont, Washington interposes his goo^ 



:28b INDEX. 

offices effectually. Ruinoui State of the Finance?, Colonel Lawrence sent 
to France. Letter of Washington. French and Dutch Loan. Promise of 
elliectual co-operation on the part of France. Preparations for besieging New 
York. Abandoned, but the appearance kept up. Sir Henry Clinton de- 
ceived. Washington departs for the South. Incursion of Arnold into Connec- 
ticut. Vorktown. Cornwallis invested. Surrenders. Joy of the People at 
the News 193 

CHAPTER XVII. 

JSvcnts following the Capture of Cornwallis. The Combined Armies separate. 
Washington at Newburgh. Proctediiigs of the Army. His address to the 
Officers, and its eflccts. neflections on the conduct of Washington on that 
occasion. 215 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

Evacuation of New-York. Washington enters the City. Hii Reception. 
Takes leave of his brother Officers, and proceeds Homeward. Contrast of 
his situation now and at the time he passed through New-Jersey retreating be- 
fore the Enemy. Delivers his Accounts to the Auditor-general. Remarks 
on them. Affecting Ceremony of resigning his Commission. Address of 
Washington, and Reply of the President of Congress. Reflections on the oc- 
casion . 226 

CHA.PTER XIX. 
Washington at Mount Vernon S35 

CHAPTER XX. 

Convention. Evils to be remedied by it. The New Constitution. Washington 
solicited to accept the Presidency. Consents with great Reluctance. Is 
chosen unanimously. Leaves Mount Vernon. His Reception on his Jour, 
ney. Situation of Public Affijirs. Disputes with England. Spain. War 
with Moors and Indians. National Debt. Administration of Washington. 
I'inal Retirement to Mount Vernon. ....... 241 

CHAPTER XXI. 
The last Years and Death of Washington. . . • « . 259 

CHAPTER XXII. 
Character and Death of Washington. .•.«... S69 



Jamef Clavk, Printer, Aberdeen. 



rEB 5 *9<^ 



BRARY OF CONGRESS 




